Down the Rabbit Hole
by AshTree13
Summary: When Tessa wakes up on the shores of Cape Bonavista, she knows something's wrong - especially since she was supposed to be hacking into Abstergos mainframe. Thrown back to a time when pirates ruled the sea, Tessa struggles to survive the pirate way of life. Yet, as she sinks deeper into the world and opens her heart, she finds that maybe this was where she was meant to be all along
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

As my fingers glide over the smooth keyboard, my heart thumps wildly in chest and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I feel as if I cannot breath, like I am trapped and I know time is running out but that's just it – it is.

"Shit," I hiss as I hit the wrong key and a brief 'error' message flashes across the screen.

 _Error: file not found_ the computer intoned, its voice vibrating throughout the large and largely empty – since the room was filled with hard-drives and blank screens – complex.

"What'd you do?"

"I hit the wrong key," I inform the voice crackling over my earpiece, my eyes scanning the lines of boundless information scrolling down the screen in an endless, quick succession.

"Idiot, you can't screw this up."

"I know, Hastings," I assure him, pausing momentarily in my search, "we need to do this. For Desmond."

Silence.

"You still there, Shaun?"

"Yeah," he responds, his voice edged with a hint of exhaustion and maybe even a hint of regret – of course, he'd never admit it. "Look," he begins, once again interrupting my newfound concentration. I hesitate on the keys and wait for him to continue, hoping that I don't miss the file as he lectures.

"You're running out of time. Just leave it; we already have tabs on that new researcher and you need to get out of there-"

"No," I answer, cutting him off mid-sentence, "I need to this. I made a promise."

"To Desmond? Hate to break it to you, but he's dead."

"They're using his DNA to find us, to find the others," I retort, angry tears blurring the computer screen before me. Hastily, I wipe a hand across my eyes, subconsciously lifting my chin in defiance, "I refuse to let that happen."

"Tessie," Shaun sighs and I can picture him now, slumped forwards in his seat with his head in his hands. I know that he knows that I am right – it's simply too dangerous and impractical to leave without attempting the gather the file; the advantage this subterfuge offers is too great to ignore and it's simply unrealistic for us to depend on a stranger hired by the enemy.

"Shaun," I continue, aware that I have him hooked, "I can do this. Trust me."

"I do."

Patiently, I wait for Shaun to make up his mind. Despite my 99.9% certainty that he will agree, if I am wrong and he declines, ordering me back to our hideout, then I will have no choice but to obey. He's my superior; I'm only a foot solider.

"Fine," he eventually states, obviously exasperated with my stubbornness but unable to deny the advantages this mission presents, "five minutes, Tessie, you have _five minutes._ If you don't manage to get the file, then Rebecca and I are going to march into that control you and drag you out kicking and screaming."

"Relax," my fingers resume their dance and, filled with a fierce desire to prove myself, increase tempo, "I've got this."

"Five minutes," came the response before he clicked off the line.

Now focused, I scan the multitude of text that bombards the screen, clicking into and out of different videos, glossing over unnecessary information. Files fill the screen with a single click of a key and I know I'm almost there, so close to achieving our goal. Struggling to contain my excitement, I shift through the horde of files upon files and then finally – _finally_ – I see it.

The file I need.

The key to our success.

"I've found it, Shaun!" I cry into the earpiece.

 _Would you like to access the Sample 17 Project?_ The feminine, computerised voice of the system intoned, the message filling the screen with big, bolded lettering.

As the adrenaline begins to fade, I realise two things. One, Shaun hasn't replied to my message. Two, it's been more than five minutes.

Rebecca wouldn't be stupid enough to stroll into Abstergo, she had a secure job here that provided valuable inside information, as did Shaun, and so I knew that they wouldn't be marching through the compound in search of me. Therefore, it was strange that I received no response from my headphone – even eerier was the lack of static over the line. The communicator was never offline; at least, it was never offline in the middle of a mission, particularly when there was a member in the complex of the enemy.

 _Enough_ , I tell myself, pulling out of my pocket the hard drive Shaun gave me, _you have specific instructions. Grab the data, attempt to corrupt the source and get out before they find you._

Easier said then done.

 _Would you like to access the Sample 17 Project?_ The computer repeated.

"Yes," I mutter in reply, fumbling with the USB.

The USB flies out of my hand, spinning across the floor and under one of the Abstergo monitors. I spend a second realising my error before obscenities fly from my lips and panic begins to set in. "Shit," I cry, scrambling to my knees and peering under the monitor, reaching for the tiny hard drive hidden amongst the dust bunnies, discarded paper clips and loose bits of paper.

 _Grab it, Tessa,_ I urged myself, straining to touch the USB, _grab it._

My fingers graze the small surface and with a cry of happiness and relief, I snatch the black device into my hand and rise to my feet. Yet, before I turn back to the computer, I feel sudden and intense pain explode from the back of my skull.

The last coherent thought I have before I black out is, _wow, how cliché._

 ** _A/N:_**

 ** _Hello... so this is my first fan fiction (YAY! ^_^) so I apologise in advance for any mistakes made... so I'm going to try and aim to update every 2 weeks (since I'm in my final year of_** ** _highschool, it's going to be difficult but I'll do my best)... enjoy_**

 ** _AshTree13_**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: It has begun! the first chapter and its actually set in the right period of time... yay! So... right now, as I have no exams (besides english -_-) I'm kind of on a role with this** **fan fiction... it's really got me going :) which is why I'm gonna post this chapter today :) ... honestly, if I have a chapter, I'm going to load it... saying I'm going to set a time frame at the moment just feels ridiculous... so enjoy! feedback appreciated ^_^**

 **Chapter 1:**

I awoke to blinding bright light and the distinct sound of the sea.

Lying completely still, I allow my eyes to adjust to the sunlight streaming through the branches of what appears to be palm trees, before turning my head to the right to assess my surroundings. To my surprise, my cheek is cushioned by soft white sand, which stretches out onto a beach before meeting the soft waves of the sea, disrupted only by what appears to be the remains of cargo from a ship and the occasional lonesome tree.

 _Where the Hell am I?_ I think as I slowly sit up, resting my forehead on my knees when my head begins to pound, causing the world to spin. _Right… someone knocked me out and I've ended up… where?_

Raising my head, I watch the waves crash against the shore – a familiar sight for someone who grew up on the coast and with the birds swooping overhead, calling to one another and diving for the occasional fish and scuttling crab on the beach, it could have been home. Without a doubt, it's a beautiful sight.

Absolutely breathtaking...

 _I have officially fallen down the rabbit hole,_ I thought, turning my face back towards the sky. _Or should I go Wizard of Oz here and say something like, 'we're not in Kansas anymore...'_

"Where am I?" I yell, fisting the golden sand in frustration and watching the small grains run between the cracks of my fingers.

"You're in what I believe to be Cape Bonavista," someone answers.

"W-who said that?"

A sigh was my response. "Listen darling," the voice continued, an added edge that I could not decipher twisting his reply – I say _his_ because the voice was deep and very obviously masculine, "would you mind just telling me who you are and whether you're an enemy?"

"If I was an enemy," I begin gradually, thinking before I spoke in case I said something I would regret, "why would I tell you that I'm an enemy?"

That seemed like a perfectly reasoned response; however, by the way the man grabbed my hair and held a pistol to my head, I assume my answer was quite poor in his opinion. "I don't want to kill a lady, but I will if you don't tell me what I want to know."

"Then you're going to have to kill me because I don't know where I am, what the fuck I'm doing," I pause and struggle in his grip, "but I do know that I wouldn't tell you shit even if I did know!"

There's a brief moment of silence before my captor lets slip a low chuckle.

 _Hmph, at least he finds me amusing_.

"What's your name?"

He pauses and I can imagine a smile tugging at his lips, "you can at least tell me that, right?"

"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

"I asked first," came his reply.

"A gentleman would introduce himself first before forcing a lady to announce herself," I respond primly, wincing slightly as the grip on my hair tightens.

 _Okay, new strategy. Don't piss the guy with the weapon off._

"Edward," he suddenly says, releasing his hold on my locks to my relief and surprise, "Edward Kenway."

"Kenway," it's familiar, although I can't determine why the name rings a bell. Shrugging it off, I carefully run a hand through my dishevelled locks and turn to look at 'Edward', a glare pasted across my face, "did you have to pull my hair."

Kenway turns back to me and smiles, "sorry Darling, had to get your attention some way."

He's handsome – that's the first coherent thought that flutters through my head after he's looked at me. Wild, blonde hair with a pair of grey-blue eyes, a strong jaw and not to mention a body that, even under the layers of clothes he wears, is obviously well built and packed with muscle. A body one could maintain and achieve with a lot of hard work and exercise which, judging from his sun-kissed skin (what I could see,) he certainly got. Maybe he did hard labour in the sun, or something.

As I continue to blankly stare, Edwards' smile widens and takes on a cocky edge – it's a nice smile, I admit, one that only adds to his appeal and it pisses me off even more.

"See something you like, darling?" he purrs.

Getting to my feet, I lower my eyes and clench my fists. If I look at him, not only will it inflate his ego, I worry my expression will tip him off to my plans. I want it to be surprise.

And when I sock him in the face, he's certainly astonished.

Although he doesn't fall on his ass – damn it! – his head does whip to one side and his blue eyes widen in shock, a hand quickly flying to his slowly reddening jaw.

Clutching the offending fist to my chest, I spin away from Kenway and suck on my lower lip, struggling to keep the vulgarities bubbling out of me as my fist throbs in pain. If I had known that punching his perfect face was going to hurt as much as it did, I would have aimed lower.

"Shit," I cry, unable to hold back the expletives any longer, "shit, fuck! Oh my god, fuck that hurt!"

"Why'd you punch me?" Kenway yells at me.

"Because you're an asshole," I scream back, performing little jumps to try and force my brain to compute something other than the agony in my right hand.

"I told you my name, didn't I?"

"After holding a gun to my head and pulling out clumps of my hair," I retort.

Kenway watches me for a moment and then grabs my hand, pulling it to his lips, which are soft and surprising gentle as they place a kiss on my throbbing knuckles, "if you're going to punch someone, do it properly."

 _God, he just doesn't know when to quit. But, that did feel rather nice... no! stop it!_

I shake my head quickly and pull my hand away, trying to cover up my embarrassment and hid my flaming cheeks. "I did," I mumble, kicking the sand childishly.

We stare at each other and its then that I realise that I don't know how I want to proceed. Should I run? Should I ask him to help me? The latter seemed like the best plan, considering I didn't know where I would run to if I were to run away.

Kenway, obviously figuring that we were getting nowhere with what could only be described as a staring content, sighed and turned away, stowing his pistol at his hip. Studying the man before me further, I notice his clothes are similar to that of assassins and it's then that I realise that that's exactly what he is.

 _Idiot,_ I tell myself, for not realising sooner; so much for what I considered 'good observation' skills. Despite this, relief settles the butterflies I didn't realise were fluttering about in my stomach – this was something I knew, something familiar.

"You're an assassin?" it comes out as a question, although I meant for it to be a statement.

"What?"

"Nothing," I immediately respond, berating my stupidity. Rule number one, never reveal an assassins identity, even if the assassin is amongst comrades – bringing attention to the fact that I was standing beside an assassin was hardly a good idea. "You said that I was in Cape Bonavista," I continue, mentally berating myself further and desperate to change the subject, "where exactly is that?"

"The Caribbean," Edward responds, curiosity peaking his interest in me, "why do you ask?"

 _How the Hell did I end up in the Caribbean?!_

"Did you kidnap me and take me here?" I ask sharply, struggling to keep my breathing and heartbeat steady, refusing to fall into panic.

"I found you passed out on the beach."

 _P-p-passed out?_

"I need you're help."

"What?" Kenway frowns, folding his arms over his chest, "why should I help you? You punched me."

"Please," I beg, my voice breaking as tears threaten to fall, "please, help me. I don't know where I am, how I got here. I don't even know if I'm... please, I just need to get to city so I can get my bearings and contact some friends. So, please, please don't leave me here on my own."

At that, my voice cracks and I can no longer hold back the tears of panic. Hastily, I brush them away but Edward catches my hand – for the second time that day – and wipes away a tear, studying my tear-stained face with a weary expression.

"You don't want to get involved with me," he says, brushing away a strand of hair from my wet cheeks, "but I'll take you to Havana."

I stare at him in silent disbelief, surprised that the man who had earlier held a pistol to my head was willing to take me to a city, to look after me. It was… oddly kind and comforting. Offering a small smile, I nod my head in thanks and take a step back, wiping away the remaining tears.

"On one condition," he continues, that devilish smile returning to his lips, "you tell me your name."

The simple request astounds me and I can't help but giggle at the absurdity of it all - all of that screaming only to come back full circle where we began. Taking a deep breath and trusting my instincts which tell me to trust the man before me, I tentatively offer Edward Kenway my hand.

"Theresa North," I tell him, grasping his hand firmly, "but you can call me Tessa."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

"When you said 'I'll take you to Havana,' I assumed you'd actually take me to Havana." Crouching behind a particularly bristly and thick bush, I wipe away the condensation gathering upon my forehead. Although it was not particularly hot, it was certainly warm and uncomfortable with the scorching sun blaring down the back of my neck, guaranteeing both sunburn and a lot of perspiration.

Beside me, Edward grunts in response, his eyes scanning the horizon.

In other words, the bastard ignores me.

With a groan, I shift my weight and again dab at my skin, this time the back of my neck. I was still in the clothes I'd donned for my mission to Abstergo – that meant tight jeans, knee length boots and a thick, black sweater, which I had tied around my waist – and due to the varying thickness and dark colour scheme, I was positively sweltering under the sun. It was Edward who, when I had complained of the heat, had humbly suggested removing my sweater – his face had twisted in confusion at the foreign word and judging from the way his eyes had widened at the thin, tight tank top beneath the knit, he was unfamiliar with my attire. Or maybe he just hadn't seen a woman flash a lot of skin before.

That I highly doubted.

His reaction, on the other hand, was worrying and only reinforced the knowledge that I wasn't anywhere close to home. However, focusing on that was only going to set me into another state of panic, so ignoring my growing concern, I focus on the situation at hand. Right now, my biggest anxiety was how was Edward going to take me to Havana without means to travel; well, that and receiving skin cancer from the sunburns I know I'd obtain on my exposed shoulders and neck.

"That schooner will do us just fine," Edward declares in a whisper, edging closer towards the beach, "sturdy, in good condition and has a crew. Should be able to hold up until we get to Havana."

"We're going to steal a ship?" I hiss, following Edward as he moves stealthy towards the reasonably large vessel.

He turns his head to look back at me, one blonde eyebrow arched in question. "You have a problem with the plan."

"Yes," I exclaim.

"Do you think I care?"

Before I can open my mouth to retort, voices float along the faint breeze to where we lie in wait. "The commodore's gone ahead to Kingston," the voice was saying, obviously tense and more than a little irritated with being left behind by his 'commodore.'

"We're to commandeer this ship and follow in due haste," the man continued and as I peak my head out from the bushes, I catch a flash of a red uniform accented with white, nonetheless, what really catches my attention is the slim sword strapped to his side.

Well-armed.

This wasn't going to be easy.

"Sorry," another voice interrupted, this one anxious and wavering from what could no doubt be nerves, "did you say K-Kingston? No, no…. our destination is the port at Havana. I'm just a merchant doing my rounds. Sorry, can't help you-"

"Quiet," the first voice commands, immediately shutting up the other, "bleeding pirate! You're going to hang for the mess you made out there and for impersonating an honest buisnessman, I'll make sure of it."

 _Pirate?_

Quickly, I glance at Edward only to find he's not by my side but edging towards the small cluster of men closer to the shore, leaving me crouching behind bushes and beside a large sea-turtle pulling herself across the sand. " _Kenway_ ," I whisper frantically, hoping he'll turn around but just like I knew he would, he ignores my hysterical cry and continues to advance towards the men I realise are soldiers.

Bastard.

As silently as I can, I follow, trying to not step on loose foliage that could give away our positions – I'd be damned if I gave Edward the satisfaction of seeing me screw everything up for us. He'd probably expect that.

"Sir," the anxious voice argues, "I swear that we had nothing to do with that attack. We've just stopped here to gather water and take stock of our supplies."

"I said," the solider roars, drawing his blade and raising it above the now cowering man/merchant/pirate, " _silence_ , you bloody pirate!"

Before the solider can bring down his rapier, I see a blur of blue and grey dash out from the safety of the vegetation and sink his own cutlasses into the man with timed efficiency – clearly the ease of a practiced killer. Jerking the bloodied blades out of the soldiers' body, Edward turns swiftly on his heel to face the remaining soldiers and with just as much competence as his first kill, he disposes of the other soldiers in a series of quick parries and strikes, leaving in his wake a trail of corpses.

For a moment, I sit there, stunned at what had just unfurled before my very eyes and with a start, I realise I'm trembling. It's not the first time I've seen someone die, heaven knows I've watched comrades and enemies alike fall in my days but I'd never been close enough to see the blood, to see the deed be done up close. It was terrifying and the ease to which Edward had carried out the assassinations only sought to further my discomfort.

As the buzz of conversation reaches my ears, I force myself back to reality and ricochet to my feet, glaring at Edward in an expression mixed with disbelief and simple horror. "You killed them!" I shriek, gesturing to the scattered bodies littering the once pristine beach, "you just – god – you just _killed them_."

"They were just about to kill Mr. Bonnet here," Edward calmly replies, nodding at the blond, rather plump by comparison man, "and God knows that after they did him in, we would've been next."

"But did you have to kill them?" I ask, feeling incredibly dumb with my obvious inquires.

"Yes," came Edward's firm response, his eyes narrowing as he watched me come to terms with what I had just seen.

"Mr… uh, Duncan was it?" Bonnet chirps, his rather small eyes uneasily darting between the two of us, "is this, uh, lady with you by chance?"

"Yes, this is my partner-"

"Duncan?" I interject once more, shooting Edward a quizzical expression.

"Tessa," Edward finishes, shooting me sharp look.

Obediently, I snap my mouth shut and fold my arms defensively across my chest, glaring at him as I did.

Turning away from both Bonnet and I, he studies the merchant vessel with great interest, his brow furrowed in what I now recognise as thought. Whilst Edward is distracted, Bonnet turns to me and offers a hand, taking the time to graciously introduce himself. He insists that I call him Stede, instead of Mr. Bonnet as I continually address him, and quickly informs me of his trade – a merchant of sugar across the Caribbean, namely Kingston and Havana, detailing his latest trip and how he came to end up on the shores of the Cape.

"And just out of nowhere, I'm being flagged down by the British Navy, accusing me of piracy," he huffs, "absolutely absurd, Miss North, if I do say so myself. Lucky for me, Duncan managed to, uh, step in and take care of things for me… is he always this impetuous?"

I open my mouth to reply, but Bonnet immediately cuts me off, "of course, I don't expect you to tell me that's the case. Doesn't matter after all, I'm alive now because of him. Unlucky that he didn't make it in time to save my captain…"

"Is he the only one who can sail the ship?" I inquire, following his gesture to see the bloodied corpse of burly, tanned man, "don't you know how to sail, Mr. Bonnet?"

"Stede," he automatically corrects, shaking his head, beady eyes filled with remorse for the loss of his able seaman, "unfortunately I don't know how to sail, Miss North, it's never really been a strong suit of mine and I realise now that I'm kind of stuck, since the rest of my crew don't know how to really circumnavigate either. We're going need expert navigational skills to make it out of the Cape, the cliff faces and sandbanks make it particularly difficult to steer the waters."

He pauses, pulling a handkerchief out of his embellished sleeve, dabbing at his perspiring face, "what to do, what to do? I have no idea how I'm going to sell all my sugar now and my contacts in Havana are waiting for their next shipment."

"I can pilot her myself, no mind," Edwards suddenly says, strolling past us to investigate the crates on the beach.

"You don't mean to abscond my ship, do you?" Bonnet frets, eyes widening as he watches Edward study his precious sugar.

 _Yes,_ I think, waiting for Edward to come up with a comeback.

"Mr. Bonnet," I start, prepared to take charge of the situation as the silence continues to stretch between the three of us.

"Stede," came the immediate and expected response, his eyes still locked upon Edward scrutinising his sugar.

"Stede," I reluctantly concede, taking a deep breath, "what Ed-Duncan meant to say was-"

"Bonnet, I wasn't sure if I should be letting you in on this, but I'm sure you're a, uh, respectable and trustful man and we're in dire straights," Edwards smoothly interrupts, throwing an arm loosely around Bonnet's shoulders, bringing him close as to bring Bonnet in on some secret. "You see, Tessa and I are on a secret errand for the king, God save him, and we must get to Havana with speed."

It takes all of my effort not to burst into laughter at the blatant, ridiculous lie.

 _There's no way that Bonnet is going to fall for that._

"Ah…" Bonnet sighs, offering a hesitant smile, "That's a relief. Well, you're in luck Havana is also my destination. Our ways, it seems, lie together!"

 _No freaking way._

"Natural allies, then," Edward chuckles, clapping Bonnet's shoulder.

 _You've got to be joking_ , I think in complete disbelief when the two men laugh merrily side-by-side, _that was… that was…. Argh! How the Hell does Kenway do it?_

"Oh, you two put me at ease, you do," Bonnet grins, "and to think I thought you two pirates!"

"Pirates huh?" I answer faintly, leaning against the trunk of a palm tree.

"Yes, well," Bonnet hesitates, "you do have an… uncommon way of handling yourselves – quick and easy. Duncan gave me quite a fright, he did, and then out you pop from the scrubs. All in all, it seems that it was meant to be – now I have a captain and two new – if I'm not being forward – friends, wonderful isn't it."

"Yeah," I whisper, sliding to sit on the soft sand, resting my forehead against my knees, "wonderful."

"Shall we set off then?" Bonnet inquires despite the fact that Edward is already marching out towards the marooned ship. His mouth gapes open at the palpable show of disrespect and he turns to me with a flustered, perplexed expression, which causes me to once again laugh out loud, shaking my head at his surprise.

"Ed-Duncan," I hastily correct, recalling the fake name Edward had given, "does things on his own terms. He's a… free spirit."

"Ah," Bonnet mumbles, "I see."

"We better follow," I respond, scrambling back to my feet. Nodding towards Edward's retreating figure, I offer a simply smile and begin setting off after my perplexing companion, "if we don't, Mr. Bonnet, Duncan will leave without us and I'm afraid he won't look back."

Without waiting to see if Bonnet follows, I turn quickly on my heel and hurry after Edward, determination quickening my step until I am sprinting down the length of the beach, a smile curled upon my lips.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Leaning over the left side of the ship – _the port side_ , I tell myself, recalling Edward's directions as to how to navigate the rocking schooner – I watch the deep, sea-green ocean pass by, studying my reflection.

The distorted image of a red haired woman looks back at me, studying me with equal intensity with dulled blue eyes. My normally pale skin appears ghostly and green, my face tight with exhaustion and stress. I know, without even revising my reflection, that there are dark circles under my eyes that existed prior to my awakening on the beach of Cape Bonavista.

 _He's taking me to Havana,_ I reassure myself, shooting Edward and Bonnet a quick glance, watching as they chat casually about their respective lives, _in Havana, I'll be able to contact Shaun and he'll be able to get me out of here._

 _But what if he can't?_ A little voice innocently inquires.

Those butterflies I thought I had shed begin to flap once again, causing me to brace the smooth wood of the ship, inclined back towards the sea in case I can't keep what little food I have left in my stomach down. _I'm going to be fine,_ I tell myself firmly.

"Just fine," I say aloud, moving away from the edge.

"Tess," Edward yells, grabbing my attention instantly.

"Don't call me that," I scream back, folding me arms over my chest and leaning against the rail, "you don't deserve to call me 'Tess,' you ungrateful jerk!"

"Cruel," he laughs, handling the ship with ease. Even from where I stand, I can tell his eyes sparkle with life – this, piloting a ship, is obviously where he feels most comfortable, where he belongs. "It's not like I would've left you on the beach."

 _Sure, you keep telling yourself that,_ I think, glaring at the man.

"I was just going to say we're almost out of the Cape, keep an eye out," he continues with a slightly cocky smile.

"For what?"

As the question leaves my lips, I hear a loud splash emit from the left of the ship; the distinct sound of something heavy and large breaking into the body of the ocean. I watch in complete amazement as a Humpback Whale leaps into the air before crashing back into the sea with a mighty splash, the sea-spray flying into the breeze and damping my cheeks.

"You should see your face," Edward roars with laughter.

And I have no doubt that it's a picture of hilarity.

* * *

 **A/N: so here's chapter 2 :) YAY! It's getting there, slowly but surely... unfortunately, a new assignment and impending exams have forced me to sadly inform you all of my official upload schedule. So, I'm going upload on Friday or Saturday every week starting** **from today. I am so sorry for the confusion (please don't hit me *runs away*) but I promise each chapter will be worth the wait!**

 **XOXO AshTree13**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Finally managed to upload chapter 3 :) My internet has been a pain today and no matter how many times I tried to upload the file, it didn't want it - Oh well, I managed to get it up somehow... I found this chap** **ter a little hard to write, considering this was the moment Tessa learns that she's no longer in her own world... it's only a small moment (for that, I am sorry) but as the story progresses, I feel that Tessa will come to face that fact more and more, particularly as she begins to learn how to interact with this world... anyways... enjoy this chapter - I hope I made it worth the wait :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 3:**

Havana was, in a sense, one of the most classically attractive places I had ever been. The busy town with its white-stone buildings and red-slate roofs of which appeared to the common eye, decrepit and weather-beaten, bleached by the sun and blasted by the wind, seemed oddly humble to me. And with its' low port surrounded by green forest and tall palm trees, leaves a lush green which wafted gently in the breeze, it seemed to create an aura of excitement and a sense of peace, safety, as they waved ships in as they sailed into port.

"It's beautiful," I breathe, watching as the shore came closer and closer, my eyes picking out the vibrant colours of the city with excitement and curiosity. Never had I seen such a simplistic yet striking place and despite the nervous knot wound in my stomach, I was euphoric to see land and visit the phenomenal trading-hub.

"I've been here before, you know," Bonnet informs me, nudging my shoulder in order to pull my attention away from the brilliance of the port, "only once, mind you," he continues, a mischievous grin twisting his moustached lips.

"And?" I ask, leaning closer, my eyes bright with interest, "how was it?

"It was a truly awful pleasure."

Laughing at the awful joke, I shift my attention away from Bonnet to Edward, observing him as he frowns in concentration, focused on steering the small vessel into the clear, blue-green waters of the bay. His face betrays nothing besides that focus yet I find myself wondering if he's visited the old-style city before; he certainly knew how to navigate the waters of the Atlantic in what I thought was record time with this timber-and-sail ship.

"I was worried there, but only for a moment," Bonnet confesses with a whisper, regaining my attention once more, "that Duncan may lead us astray. However, it seems that I was incorrect."

"He did get us here in one piece," I agree, glancing over my shoulder at the man in question, returning the quick grin I catch Edward giving me.

"So, I can finally be rid of you," Edward calls teasingly, shifting the helm with careful precision as the boat edges closer to the shore and into the shallow waters of the bay.

Rolling my eyes at the banter, I turn back to Bonnet and watch as he waves at the small crowd gathered at the docks, crying 'hello' happily into the crowd. And although I don't see anyone respond, except for the occasional nod and smile from passers-by, I can't help but ask; "see someone you know?"

"No, no, no. Just putting on a friendly face," Bonnet assures me, halting his greetings, "I shouldn't want to be mistaken for a pirate again. Might not have Duncan here to rescue me the next time."

 _Yeah,_ I think, hoping that my smile does not seem too much like a grimace when recalling the bloodied corpses littering the Cape Bonavista beach, ' _rescue.'_

"An Honourable Rogue like yourself must be cautious," Edward agrees with a sarcastic air, rolling his azure-green eyes, "the ships docked and ready to go, Bonnet."

At Edward's declaration, Bonnet claps his hands happily, nodding at his crewmen who immediately begin to unload Bonnet's precious cargo. He follows the men off the ship, leaving Edward and I aboard his schooner. _Guy must trust us a lot to leave us on his only means of transport,_ I chuckle thoughtfully, the very idea ridiculous in everyway, considering that Edward had lied through his teeth the entire trip about his identity and even I hadn't told Bonnet the truth.

Then again, I didn't even know what the truth was – for all I knew, this was just some elaborate dream _and_ forget Bonnet, I hadn't even told _Edward_ that I was... what could I even say? 'Hey Edward, I may or may not be experiencing at this moment, an extreme hallucinogenic dream from the wicked head bashing I received whilst doing a super secret mission – a real one, not something fake like the 'mission' you gave Bonnet – so yeah, wanna grab a coffee later?'

Yeah, that would go swimmingly.

Sighing, I jump as Edward saunters up behind me and taps my shoulder to capture my wandering attention. He nods over at Bonnet and then gestures to the lively city of Havana, "took a little classic manipulation and my proficient sailing skills to get here, but…" he pulls me closer to his warm body, his lips grazing the shell of my ear as whispers, "welcome to Havana, Tess."

I shiver and deftly navigate my body away from his, my cheeks reddening.

"It's _Tessa_ ," I reply, looking anywhere but at Edwards' face, "who gave you permission to call me Tess, _Duncan._ "

"Don't be like that… but, if you really must know, I gave myself permission," came his smooth reply. Chuckling at my use of his false identity, he reaches for my face and grasps my chin, pulling my gaze towards his own, thumb brushing over my blushing cheeks.

My own blue eyes widen as his study my flustered expression, my heart thumping widely in my chest as his calloused thumb strokes my soft cheek, tracing my cheekbones and then my lips. To my surprise, I find myself briefly marvelling at how gentle his thumb is as it grazes my skin and I find that I enjoy the feeling of being touched with such care. I know that he's a flirt – and his smile becomes cocky and devious, I know that he's teasing me – nonetheless, I can't help the feeling of pleasure that warms my body as someone treats me with such tenderness. "Don't you like being called Tess, Tes _sa_?" he breathes, leaning forward until his lips hover merely two… maybe three inches away from my own.

Frustrated with my weak-will and the horrible burn of my cheeks, I pull away from Edward and rush off the boats deck, bowing my head to hide the distinct colouring of my cheeks, knowing that Edward remains on the deck with a no doubt satisfied expression – like a fat cat who just received full-cream milk. As I step onto the firm, wooden dock, I find myself nearly colliding with Bonnet's plump form as my body shakes despite my feet being planted firmly on the ground.

"Whoa there," he laughs, steading my swaying physique, "excited to get out into the city are we? You may want to take some time getting back your bearings, being on a ship for even a day can make you wobbly on sturdy, dry land if you're not used to it."

"You're not shaky," I answerback, frowning at Bonnet and then Edward as he makes his way onto the pier, "how do you do it?"

"Years of practice," Bonnet replies with a grin and Edward answers with a soft chuckle, handing the shorter man two small crates of Bonnet's cargo. Pausing to count his sugar, Bonnet says casually to Edward, "amazing to think that England and Spain were at war two years ago. Now here I am, bartering with Spaniards like they were my cousins."

Edward looks out into the bustling city and slowly; a frown begins to mar his handsome face. Briefly, I wonder if it was Bonnet's words that angered him, but that would be a bit farfetched. If I was honest, the only thing that I could tell was wrong with what Bonnet said, was that England and Spain had been at war, but that was hardly something that one would frown over.

"You okay?" I question, touching his forearm.

And like I knew he would, my concern goes to waste the moment Edward answers me. "It's nothing," he assures, shaking off my hand despite the fact that the frown does not disappear from his expression. "Where's the best Squat in town?" he suddenly questions Bonnet, strolling down the edge of the dock, his eyes remaining locked on the city scene, "I'm dying for a quick kip… or siesta, I should say."

"Ah, well," Bonnet begins, lifting two crates of sugar with a heavy grunt, "I'm just, uh, heading off to a Public Tavern to meet some merchants. If you'd like, I could show you the way?"

"Public house?" I ask, following at their heels, "what's that?"

"You stay by the ship," Edward instructs, putting a hand on my shoulder to stop me my pursuit, "better yet, do what you set out to do in the first place. You said you needed to send a message once we got to Havana and, well, we're in Havana so you're half way there. Just ask the Shipyard Master to direct you to a pigeon hutch and then once you've sent you're letter off, return to the ship."

"But why can't I go to the Public House with you?" I mutter, my cheeks once again flushing with irritation. The prospect of being left behind in a town I didn't know frightened me and as much as Edward's teasing, flirting and general lack of manners was exasperating, I felt content with the rough man. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had saved my life and kept his promise, but I felt he was my best option if I wanted to see things through – not to mention, survive – and to me that meant that I didn't want to be separated from either of the men.

"A Public House is no place for a lady, Miss North," Bonnet chimes in to my disappointment and Edward shoots me a triumphant look at the received support.

"But-" I begin to protest.

"Just find a stupid pigeon and stay by the boat, love," Edward says, rolling his eyes and nudging Bonnet forward. He raises his hand in farewell and pursues a conversation with Bonnet, effectively concluding our argument, if you could call it that.

Huffing, I fold my arms over my chest and watch their forms disappear amongst the multicultural crowd. With the finality, I let out a sigh of disappointment and reluctantly turn to one of Bonnet's crewman to ask for directions to the Dockyard Master, setting off immediately to begin putting the pieces of my life back together, one step at a time.

0-0-0-0-0-0

 _July 1715._

The date swirled around my head tauntingly; causing my head to pound with each lap the thought circulates. I struggle to contain the groan bubbling out from between my lips as I process the idea and no matter how many times I toss the date over in my head, I find myself arriving at the same conclusion.

It wasn't possible. I just couldn't have gone back in time. Yet, here I was, surrounded by prostitutes, privateers, soldiers, merchants and even pirates from a bygone era – the Golden Age of Piracy.

Impossible. Yet not.

I was no longer in a place that I could call home and as far as I knew, there was no way for me to go home. I couldn't even fully comprehend as to how I managed to arrive in 1715; so therefore, how the hell would I know how to get back? I was trapped in a metaphorical cage and for the time being, there was no way out.

 _So get your shit together and work out how the Hell you're going to survive here,_ I thought, scuffing my black boots as I kicked at the stone-ridden 'road.'

It all made sense now; the clothes Edward and Bonnet wore, the ship Edward had piloted, the war Bonnet had gone on about earlier, the suggestion to get to a carrier pigeon – Bonnet's freaking sugar _trade._ All aspects of an age that was supposed to be long gone and over, a time that I shouldn't exist within. Nevertheless here I was, alive and breathing, with the worst fucking headache on the planet and no medication of any sort that I knew would get rid of my ailment.

 _Fuck it. Just fuck it,_ I silently snarl, my boots clicking on the floorboards of the dock as I stalk towards Bonnet's schooner, _what is the use of worrying about it? I will cross this bridge when I know what the Hell is going on._

 _And… what if you never get to cross that bridge?_ A snide voice replied.

Ignoring the little voice and reaching the ship, I settle upon an abandoned crate to wait for Edward and Bonnet to return, wondering if they got side-tracked by more than just alcohol whilst wandering the streets of the fair city. Really, I should hardly be surprised by the number of Public Houses – which I now I understood were bars – lining the streets, coupled with the herald of drunken sailors and dolled up prostitutes that existed within the city frequented by a variety of ravenous – in more ways than one - men.

 _How the Hell am I going to survive this?_ I think despairingly just as Bonnet hobbles down the dock, carrying a single box of sugar with Edward in tow.

"Sorry about the sugar mate, I've only got one pair of hands," I hear Edward say, clapping Bonnet on his sturdy shoulder in a form of apology.

"Oh, it's no great loss, I do have plenty of cargo to make a profit of my trip," Bonnet assures him with a quick shake of his head and a soft smile, "besides, the reales you've given me is more than enough to compensate."

"Compensate for what?" I find myself asking – damn my curiosity.

"For getting into a… uh, some-what drunken fist fight and thereby causing Bonnet here to lose most of his sugar," Edward quickly confessed and upon quick assessment, I can see the bruises and cuts decorating his face, predominantly below his eye which obviously came from a serious right hook.

"Idiot," I mutter, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Did you spend your time well, Miss North, whilst Duncan and I were uh-"

"Getting into brawls at a bar?" I suggest to Bonnet with a quick, small smile.

Blushing, Bonnet avoids meeting my twinkling eyes, settling his salvaged cargo into the arms of one of his crew. "Well… yes…" he admits, albeit reluctantly after some time.

"Unfortunately, the Ship Master was unable to assist me in my endeavours and I remain stuck here in Havana with you two idiots for company," I tease, although admitting my situation aloud makes me feel sick to my stomach.

"Only you could screw that up," Edward chuckles, ruffling my hair to my annoyance as he passes, "will you remain in Havana for long, Bonnet?"

"Yes, only for a few weeks though," Bonnet answers, "then its back to Barbados, to the tedium of domesticity."

The reluctance is clear in Bonnet's voice as he describes his future plans and despite my preoccupation with my own misery, I can't help but feel sorry for the genuine man who, despite our… strange meeting, accepted us with mostly open arms. It seemed unfair that Bonnet would suffer – then again, the people who deserve to be happy the most often get the shortest straw.

"Don't settle for tedium," Edward replies to my surprise and Bonnets, "sail for Nassau, live life as you see fit."

"Haven't I heard that Nassau is crawling with pirates? Seems a very tawdry place…"

"Not tawdry," Edward corrects, "liberated."

"Unfortunately," Bonnet sighs wistfully, climbing aboard his ship, "I am a husband and a father… life cannot be just full of pleasures and freedom when you have so many responsibilities, Duncan."

"Just do what feels right," I interject before Edward has his say, "don't live life with regrets because that will be the biggest regret of your life."

"And, to tell you the truth Bonnet, the name's Edward," Edward continues, ruffling his windswept locks with a hint of embarrassment and what appears to be guilt, "Duncan's only a handle."

"Ah…" Bonnet says as if everything has just clicked, "a secret name for your secret meeting with the Governor."

"Meeting with the governor?" I query, instantaneously interested the moment the words leave Bonnet's mouth.

"The Governor," Edward groans as if he just remembered something of great importance, which judging from the look on his face, he did, "I think I've kept him waiting long enough… Bonnet, if I could ask one more favour?"

"Of course, happy to oblige."

"Look after this one for me until I get back," Edward says.

"I don't need a babysitter," I protest, gasping at his blatant disrespect when I realise 'this one' is me, "I can look after myself."

"Please, you'd probably end up drowning in the harbour if I took my eyes off you for even a second."

"I managed to find the Shipyard Master without your help."

"And yet," Edward teases, already turning away and making his way down the length of the pier, "you still got nowhere. Bonnet?"

"Of course, it'd be no trouble," he calls out happily, waving his hand in farewell, "she's great company."

I look at Bonnet with a look of horror and disbelief, silently begging him to let me go off on my own. But with a sigh, I turn away when I know that my pouty, puppy-dog look is getting me nowhere with a honourable, loyal man such as himself.

Watching Edward's retreating figure, I stick out my tongue at his back and fold my arms across my chest, hugging my body tightly as the tremors begin, once again losing myself within my thoughts.

 _July 1715_ …

 _Oh fuck._


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: I find myself making these chapters longer and longer as I go along... there's just so much I want to write in each chapter and I find it hard to cut bits and pieces out without ruining the whole dynamic... so, excuse me for the large amount of reading you must endure. I like to think it will be worth your while, after all, I strive to make each chapter better than the last :) I did enjoy writing this chapter even though it took a lot out of me and I had to do a little research about the dress of the time for Tessa. But the thing I love about this chapter is that it's the first time Tessa is working with Edward and not just towing along - she wants to prove her worth and even though not much happens that she can assist with, it is the first time they work as a partnership and I really see her beginning to develop. I apologise for my rambling, you can enjoy this chapter now ^_^**

 **AshTree13 xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 4:**

"God sink me for this pittance."

Startled, I hastily make room on the bench as Edward flops down beside me, his shoulder knocking mine as he slams his fist and a small purse of coin onto the table surface; the abrupt action causing the cups to rattle precariously.

Catching my glass before it spills, I take a sip of the bitter drink I had been downing for the past hour with Bonnet and eye my companion wearily as he fiddles with his prize, his face flushing in anger. "Long time no see," I tell him sarcastically with a smile, handing him a pint.

Rolling his eyes, Edward accepts my offering and brings the alcoholic beverage immediately to his lips, swigging the drink down in seconds and then slamming the empty cup onto the wooden table before him. Clearing his throat, he tucks away the coin purse, studying Bonnet as the plump man carefully sips at his own beverage across the table. "One thousand reales for those maps," he continues, "that's what? A hundred pounds at most?"

Silently, Bonnet reaches for the pitcher of rum and refills Edwards glass, murmuring in agreement at his friend's obvious irritation. He tips the bottle towards me but I shake my head in decline, choosing to instead fiddle with the rim of my cup and watch Edward as he rants on and on about his unjust treatment – although, I find myself giggling quietly at his testiness, mostly because I find the whole situation ridiculous at best.

Or maybe it's just the buzz from the glass of rum.

I'm what one would call a lightweight.

Desmond used to find it amusing watching me drink, simply because after one or two glasses I would find myself either swaying from side to side, slurring or dozing off on his shoulder. Not that he seemed to mind, he and Shaun would find that my being drunk was the best time for them to play a joke on me, particularly since I was always on my toes when it came to gags at my expense. Obviously, in my then current lush state, I would hardly be able to defend myself from their pranks and even though I would be furious with them the next day – often a result of my harried appearance and throbbing head – I would find myself treasuring the moment and so would they, because we never knew when they might come to an end.

And indeed, they had to end so quickly.

Gone in a blink of an eye.

Then again, it could be that the corset - or 'stay' as I had been earlier informed by the seamstress - that I wore beneath my dress was suffocating the life out of me.

"A hundred pounds seems like a lot of money," I interrupt, resting my chin in the palm of my hand as my eyes begin to droop, my brain struggling to work out how much that would be in my time.

"Hardly," Edward scoffs, "how's a man supposed to become rich in these times with a miser like Torres running the world?"

"Torres?" I ask, the name foreign to me. Was he a friend of Edwards? Obviously not, judging from his disgruntled expression.

"The Governor," Bonnet answers for my benefit. "Have you ever, ah… worked on a plantation before?" Bonnet inquires Edward out the blue, obviously attempting the steer the conversation in a different direction and I can't help but smile at the lame attempt.

 _Nice try, Bonnet._

"You know what I'm thinking?" Edward questions, raising the cup to his lips, his brow furrowed in thought, "I'd like to see this Observatory the Governor was going on about. He said it was like a device that could follow people around and show where they were."

Now that caught my attention.

Bonnet chuckles, shaking his head at the thought, "a ludicrous idea! Imagine my wife with such an advantage over me!"

"Imagine anyone with that advantage," I reply, adding my own thoughts to the mix, "the power that that would offer is… immense. No one should have that kind of supremacy, it would upset the very balance of this world."

"I think you've had quite enough drink for one night," Bonnet teases, grabbing my half-full cup of liquor despite my half-hearted protest at the action.

"Well, imagine what a thing like that would be worth," Edward chuckles, resting the palms of his hands on the splintered surface of the counter. He pushes himself off the bench, turning to face the mansion overlooking the entire city of Havana. "Sell that to the right person," he continues at a murmur, the plan formulating as he thinks more and more about the idea, "and I'd be the richest pirate-"

Pausing, he quickly glances over his shoulder at Bonnet and me, to find that only my eyes are focused on him. Bonnet remains seated, swallowing what I think to be his sixth or seventh glass of the night, distracted. But Edward cannot deny that I heard what he just said and despite the fact that he corrects himself, calling himself a 'privateer,' I know that he got it right the first time.

Honestly, I'm not surprised. I suspected that he wasn't who he said he was from the moment we had met, and upon our arrival in Havana coupled with my mind-blowing – overly dramatic but the only correct way to describe it – discovery, I had easily put two and two together.

Truthfully, it didn't bother me as much as it probably should. The only real concern I had was what Edward was going to do with the new piece of information I now held, that _he_ had mistakenly let slip. Edward was tidy and I was one of his loose ends – the knowledge that the man before me could easily do away with me, frightened me more than the knowledge that he was a pirate, attacking merchant vessels for their priceless cargo and committing murder in order to survive.

Allowing himself time to study my expression further, Edward hastily turns away and focuses his attention to the elaborate house atop the hill once more. "I'll catch you up Bonnet," he says to our mutual friend, nodding towards his next target and beginning to set off in that general direction, albeit slowly, "there's a Sage in that house I must speak to. _In private_."

I assume he adds on that last part for my benefit, knowing that my curiosity has the tendency to compel me to follow. And despite the fact that I know that I shouldn't, I gather up my skirts and climb out from the bench, nodding at Bonnet as I hastily follow Edwards' retreating figure, determined to not be left behind once again.

"You're a pirate," I hiss as I catch up to him, struggling to breathe as my new whalebone corset digs into my ribs, effectively cutting off any circulation of air to my lungs. It doesn't help that the alcohol numbing my senses also plays into my lack of coordination, forcing me to stumble as I pursue Edward - in fact, it's an effort for me just to remain upright and I can't help but think that a strangling corset and more than two pitchers of rum have expertly played their part. Well, I know I'm never going to do that again.

"What part of 'in private' can you not comprehend?" Edward growls, grabbing my elbow as I nearly trip over my feet - can't blame the skirts this time for my tipsiness. He pulls me to a stop and leans close so we are not overhead by the few people that linger in the near-deserted streets, "go back to Bonnet."

"No," I argue, pulling my arm out of his firm grip and praying to God that I wouldn't fall on my ass from the abrupt motion. "As you asked, I have stayed with Bonnet for the past two days and whilst I enjoy his company, I have not enjoyed letting him dress me up as if I were a doll. Nor have I enjoyed adjusting to these foreign clothes, or eating half-cooked meals at best. The worst part was wondering where you had gone, unsure of what I exactly do next... although," I pause, considering the past two days spent with Bonnet. "Touring the city and seeing the sites was interesting," I admit, furrowing my brow as I grow more and more frustrated with Edward's silence, "for God's sake Edward, answer me! I am not going back and thats final!"

"My job finished the moment we arrived in Havana," Edward growls, his eyes flashing in fury, "I don't have anymore reason to waste my time upon you. I _don't need you!_ You will only get in my way."

"But I need you," I whisper, painfully aware that the very words will only serve to inflate his narcissistic nature, but I have no choice. I ran out of options two days ago, when the reality of my situation set in. With Bonnet, I knew that I would be able to get by, but with Edward, I would be able to _survive_. He was, without a doubt, my best option and I wasn't letting him go without a fight. "Please Edward," I almost beg, remembering that not a few days ago on the shores of Cape Bonavista, I was in a similar situation with the very man, " _You_ are my best decision out of all the other options I can choose from. I trust you-"

"You trust me?" he snarls, grabbing shoulders and lowering his face so we are eye to eye, "even though I am a pirate? I could kill you, now that you are aware of my secret. It would be easy too, since you can barely stand on your own two feet."

"I'm just a little... dizzy," I explain, relieved that I don't slur as I speak, "I won't screw up. I promise, I'm more use to you with you, not apart. Let us benefit one another."

Silently, he assesses me, perhaps searching for a hint of dishonesty. Finding none, he releases my trembling body – because yes, he does frighten me a great deal and the intensity in his cobalt eyes shakes my very core – and takes a step back, his eyes moving from my face down to my body, a familiar smirk curling his lips.

Self-consciously, I wrap my arms around my upper torso and look away from his prying gaze, the now familiar burn of my cheeks highlighting my embarrassment. "What?" I whisper, fiddling with the lace decorating the pale blue silk sleeves of my new dress. "Is there something wrong with my dress? Did I put it on wrong? Please tell me I've got everything in the right place-"

"You look like a lady," Edward interrupts, his expression surprising gentle, the smile losing its sarcastic edge, "you look wonderful… and completely conspicuous."

Blushing, I look away from his intense gaze laced with mirth. "It's not my fault that Bonnet chose the most expensive and elaborate gown in the store," I retort, anxiously twirling a loose strand of hair that had escaped from my chiffon bun, "I tried to persuade him to get something simpler but he was adamant that we purchase this particular garment."

"Tess," he whispers and I immediately halt my useless rambling to hear him out, "stay out of sight and stay close, I can't have you running off it we are to do this together."

"It's Tessa," I automatically correct.

He chuckles and raises an eyebrow.

"We are in this together," I tell him fiercely, determined to prove my worth, ignoring his teasing grin.

"Then don't leave my side. We're going to have to sneak in… and we may have to get a little dirty…"

I nod and make to follow as he sets off once more. Yet, again he stops and turns to me, his grin only widening as he takes me in once more.

"By the way, if you're planning on passing out, then do so someplace safe."

0-0-0-0-0-0

"I've only had this dress for a day and already I've ruined the hem," I mutter in disdain, inspecting the fraying cloth, "all of that money and I've destroyed it."

"I'm sure Bonnet will forgive you," came Edwards muffled reply as he carefully inspects the corner for any sign of movement.

"It is silk," I reply feebly, resting my back against the cold stone with a hand place atop my stomach, feeling my stomach rise and fall as I struggle to keep the world from spinning. I partially fear it's the alcohol I had consumed earlier coming back to bite me, but then again, it could be the wretched stay.

Silently, Edward reloads his pistols and readjusts his rapiers, his own breaths short and shallow with nerves despite the practiced ease to which he had preform each takedown up until this point. Despite our quiet entry into the manor, we had stumbled across resistance yet Edward had taken care of the minor distractions easily. He was undeniably efficient and, for some strange reason, it reminded me of Desmond - but that was preposterous, because the two men were nothing alike in appearance nor personality.

"Okay," he tells me, startling me out of my brief daydream, "we can move.. stay in the shadows and-"

"Keep close," I finish, rolling my eyes, "yes, yes, as you've constantly reminded me." Gathering my skirts in one hand to keep them from making as little noise as possible, I try to keep pace with Edward as he rushes from wall to wall, bush to bush, in an attempt to stay hidden.

Eventually, we stumble into what appears to be a foyer, yet despite the gilded gates it hardly feels as if we are arriving at some grand hall and I have no doubt that this building serves as a prison. Except, as we walk into the vestibule of the structure, I pull Edward to a stop and nod at the fresh blood painting the patterned floor. "Something's not right," I tell him, despite the obvious carnage before us. It just came out, the obvious observation, yet I feel it had some merit. Edward was so preoccupied in finding the Sage that he would probably overlook the small detail.

"Stay close," Edward whispers, pulling me behind him, "do not leave my side."

Although he has repeated this throughout the night, I find myself nodding my head in agreement because for the first time, I am frightened of what is to come. My body feels as stiff as a wooden board as we make our way into the usually guarded garrison, the abnormal peace shriller than any gunshot. As I wonder where the guards may have gone, I have my answer the moment we progress further into the compound and find a group of Spanish soldiers passed out on the dusty floor, one moaning in obvious pain as he starts to come too.

As Edward moves towards the disorientated solider, a feeling of unease descends upon me and before I can shout a warning, I feel someone grab me from behind. As the soldiers restrain my smaller body, a great monster of a man tears towards Edward, throwing the pirate to the floor with a single swing of his meaty fist. Until now, I had only seen Edward carry out takedowns with an almost graceful effortlessness – now, Edward was the one being thrown down and it terrified me with how easy it was for the great, armoured man to do so. Yet, I keep my mouth shut and hold back the urge to scream in panic... after all, what good would screaming do?

The man raises his fist again but before he makes to punch Edward, an elderly man yells at him in what I can tell is flawless Spanish and the beast withdraws his fist, turning to face his master.

The man holding me elbows my back, urging me forward and towards the pirate who spits out blood and wipes away at the crimson liquid trickling out of a potentially broken nose. The grey-haired man – who I can only assume is the Governor, Torres – pulls back Edwards' assassin hood so he can study the pirates face, his own heavily-lined one frowning in disappointment. "What is your true name, Rogue?" he questions, folding his arms behind his back in a regal-manner. Obviously, the man is important and he certainly gives off an air of superiority; in other words, he suits the role of Governor perfectly.

"It's ah... Captain Pissoff," Edward responds, wiping away at what seems to be an endless stream of fresh blood, trickling out from his nose.

My heart stops as the beast makes to back-hand Edward but it settles once Torres speaks to the armoured man in rapid Spanish, my limited study in the language allowing me to catch the words 'filthy' and 'peasant.' No doubt, the bastard is insulting us but I don't particularly care as long as Edward is not harmed again.

"Did you set the Sage free?" Torres inquires.

"I had nothing to do with that," Edward grunts, getting to his knees so he can face Torres directly, his blue eyes glowing with hatred, "as much as I wish I did."

 _Edward, you're only going to make it worse,_ I think, straining against my captor to no avail.

"And you, girl," Torres says, his cold eyes floating from Edward's face to mine, "did you have anything to do with this?"

I snap my mouth shut, choosing to look at the dusty, bloodstained floor rather than at the intimidating Governor. I'm no fool - I know that it will get us nowhere if I speak, in fact, it would probably make things worse. However, once Torres realises neither Edward nor I are going to tell him anything of use, he orders his men to escort us to the docks, to be placed on a fleet heading to Spain.

"Move!" the soldier barks in my ear in heavily accented English, towing me after Edward out of the garrison.

"Wait, now!" Edward yells, straining against his own captors, turning his head back towards Torres, his slightly glazed eyes flashing with fury as he is dragged out of the compound, "I delivered your treasures, didn't I?"

"Yes," Torres reluctantly agrees, following his men at a safe distance, "but you robbed us of Duncan Walpole."

"At least let the girl go," Edward snaps, "she has nothing to with this!"

"That is where you are wrong," Torres corrects and his steely eyes lock on my face. Raising my chin, I twist my features into what I hope is an expression of little fear and pure resentment, this time refusing to look away from his calculating gaze. "She is here with you now," Torres finishes, the first to look away as his soldiers drag me down the steps of his manor, "and in my book, she is as guilty as you."


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Yet another long chapter ^~^ There's just so much to put in and I just can't help making the chapters longer than they need to be so again I apologise for the chapter's length! I'm halfway through Chapter 6... so maybe as a little treat I'll upload it on Saturday - I'm actually moving houses next Friday so I can't upload the next chapter that day and that Saturday, I'm out late with family so that days out of the question... so chapter** **6 is definitely going to be uploaded earlier than normal :) Anyways, I had a lot of trouble with this chapter and I think the beginning is a little slow but at the same time, I'm proud to put up yet another chapter that I am proud to show you all - I wouldn't upload something if I didn't think it was up to my usual standards (which I put very high... I think I'm a perfectionist when it comes to writing -_-)**

 **Also, thanks to the people who have been reviewing! I really appreciate the kind words you've given me, it truly means a lot and I hope I can live up to your expectations, therefore making every chapter as amazing or even more so, than the last ^_^ So, enjoy the next chapter everyone!**

 **AshTree13 xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 5:**

"Let me off this goddamn ship!"

The chains that bind my arms behind my back, rub painfully at the insides of my wrists as I strain against the steadfast shackles. Chafing against the soft skin of my wrists, the metal cuffs form lacerations which painfully ooze blood from the fresh wounds. I know that pulling at the restraints will do me no good, but the knot of panic in my stomach urges forth the common instinct to flee from danger – though I'd rather have the 'fight' predisposition when it came to the fight-or-flight response, the honest truth was that I had no desire to remain within the brig of the wavering ship any longer than necessary. If only I had Edward; I was sure that he had gotten himself into worse situations and he would certainly know how to handle this particular one, I was certain of it. Yet, the length of a ship stretched between us and despite the fact that he was stowed in the bow of the very same vessel as I, it felt as if we were separate by miles.

 _We are so fucked,_ I think, out of breath from the futile exertion that was my attempt at escape. Ribbons of my hair fall into my eyes despite my desperate attempts to shake the loose strands out of my face and with a sigh of defeat, I close my eyes and will my body to still, my head resting against the wooden beam that I was tied to. Blinking back hot tears, I grit my teeth and try to ignore the leering stares of the Spanish soldiers, willing myself to remain calm but it was harder to achieve than I realised.

The ship then abruptly sways to one side, sending unfastened crates skidding down the length of the floor, colliding with the opposing wall of the vessel. Startled, and more than a little nauseous, I glance over at the group of soldiers and attempt to inquire as to what was occurring outside the confines of the ship, to make it lean so precariously to one side. However, my Spanish was hardly perfect – in fact, I barely managed to scrape through Spanish classes in High School, which resulted in a very limited and incredibly clunky vocabulary – and judging from the boisterous laughter of the men, I had obviously failed in my attempt at conversing in their native tongue. Frustrated, I repeat my question, albeit slowly, adding in English to substitute for the words I didn't know and then patiently waited for them to come up with a suitable response as they decoded my broken Spanish.

 _Pirates? Or just a storm?_ I wonder, as one soldier strolls towards me and drops a plate of what appears to be stale bread and rotten cheese before me.

"Supper," he grunts in rough English, obviously coming to realise that I would barely understand him if he spoke to me in his natural dialect, "eat. Fast. Storm is coming."

 _So just a storm._

"How the Hell do you expect me to consume my 'supper' with no utensils?" I ask aloud, lacing my words with a combination of sarcasm and frustration at their obvious overlook of my current situation, "it's not like I can use my hands to eat your 'delicious' meal."

Ignoring me, the man returns to his post by the doorway with his fellow men, choosing to converse with them rather than worry himself with how his prisoner was going to avoid starvation when she couldn't even pick up her food.

And I refuse to eat of the floor like a dog.

"Fine," I yell, kicking away the plate as the ship rolls again with the ferocious waves, "ignore me, you blundering idiot! It's not like I'm starving or anything."

"Shut up," the soldier snaps, shooting me a momentary glare before the ship once again sways dangerously close to one side, his own body wavering as it slams into the wooden doorway when attempting to balance. Yelling at the remaining men, a few of them set off towards the bow of the ship – I assume to check that Edward was secure in his own shackles – whilst he struggles over towards me.

Trembling, I swallow the rest of my insults and pull my knees to my chest, trying to ignore the desire to bring up what little food that remained in my stomach, as I turn my green eyes to the soldier's hazel. "Is something wrong?" I inquire bitterly, wishing that I could lash out and kick him where I knew it would hurt.

It was so tempting.

The man reaches behind me and inspects the cuffs, obviously concerned that with the rolling of the ships on the stormy waves they would magically come loose and I would be set free. Honestly, he really had nothing to worry about – despite how primitive these handcuffs were in comparison to the ones I had back home, they held tight and steady no matter what I did to them. The bastard was lucky that it was a bitch to break these, because he would be the first I would go after if I was every freed – particularly with that obnoxious, sneering smile as his eyes wandered over my body.

"See something you like?" I mock, curling my lips over my teeth with a snarl.

"If the ship goes down in with the storm," the man purrs in heavily accented english, the faint smell of alcohol on his breath, a single finger running down my cheek to my chin until he can grasp it and tilt my face towards his own. "It'd be a shame, you see, to lose such a pretty thing without having a taste."

Before I can spit out an insult, the soldier flames his lips against mine. In that same moment, I feel my brain kick into overdrive as it processes the current situation, waves of disgust rolling over me as I register his invasive movements. _No, no, no, no!_ I scream in my head, my cries of protest drowned out by his mouth covering mine, his hands holding my face still as I struggle to pull away. Closing my eyes tightly, I bite down as hard as I can on his lips, satisfied when the man howls in pain and shock, jerking away from me as he struggles to contain the fresh blood trickling from his lacerated mouth.

"Bitch," he snarls, his hand connecting with my cheek in a sudden slap that whips my head to one side – the right side of my forehead colliding with the sturdy pole as he does so. Seeing stars and feeling bile rise in my throat, there is no way I can fend him off as he grabs my chin again to continue where he left off and my mounting terror escalates. But I do not cry out in fear, I refuse to show him how afraid I am, I refuse to appear weak before this bastard. I will be strong, even if I am terrified of what is to happen to me under the iron grip of this man and aboard this possibly floundering ship.

Yet, before his lips crash once again against my own, I feel the soldiers bulky fall jerk away from me as the cloudy image of a man locks him into a headlock; the soldiers face going purple with rage and what appears to be a lack of air, as his breaths turn desperate and short. As the soldiers' body goes limp from the lack of air to his lungs, I feel someone finger my aching wrists and tug at the shackles. I tense immediately, especially when the stranger begins to speak: "they gave her heavyweight restraints… makes me wonder what exactly you two were involved in to get you shipped off on this fleet, especially with these guards."

I hear the rattle of metal against metal before a voice answers the stranger in a familiar rough drawl; his recognisable figure filling my hazy vision, "just release her; it's a need to know basis and you do not need to know." The sharp tone of Edward's voice turns soft as he reaches for my chin and gently lifts it so my eyes can meet his azure ones, eyes that I had grown so accustomed to over our short acquaintanceship. "Are you okay, Tess?" he asks, his eyes furrowed in concern, "that bastard didn't hurt you? If he did, I'll kill him."

"It's Tessa, Kenway," I respond in a whisper to his apparent relief, "and don't kill him. It's not necessary, you already knocked him out."

"Always correcting me," Edward smiles, helping me to my feet and steadying my body as the ship rolls precariously, "are you sure that you're okay?"

Blinking with surprise at the kind tone of voice, I present him what I hope is a reassuring and tender smile to ease his worry. "I'm fine, Edward," I whisper, briefly touching his cheek to his own amazement, "thank you for your concern… but…"

"But?"

I reach over and, upon placing both my hands either side of his face, give his cheeks a hard pinch, "it's not like you to worry so much!" giggling, I stick my tongue out at the bewildered pirate and say teasingly, "who are you and what have you done with Edward Kenway?"

"Ah," with a confused half-grin, Edward cocks his head to one side and stares at me with bewilderment, "Tessa, what-?"

"Hurricane coming."

I jump at the new vocal addition startling me - and Edward - out of our little daydream, staring wide-eyed at the large and very muscular, African man before me – possibly a pirate, maybe a slave, I wouldn't be suprised considering the time but the most mentionable fact was that he was aboard the same ship as Edward and myself. Briefly, I wonder what landed him on this ship in the first place but as the ship rocks with the rough seas for what seems to be the 5th time since our meeting, I decide to file away the question for later.

That is, if there was a 'later' to be had.

"Christ, no wonder the seas are so rough," Edward murmurs, releasing me once he determines that I can stand on my own two feet – and, just so I can prove his assumptions correct, I grip the beam I was originally tied to so I don't fall on my ass before the two men. Spying his gear, he heads towards the weaponry and begins to return the appropriate arms to their holdings – the other prisoner doing the same – before turning to some discarded leather and adding it to his possessions before tossing me a spare pistol.

"What do I need this for?" I ask, although I already knew the answer.

"Just in case," came his reply to my thorough dismay.

"We're stealing a Brig," the stranger informs Edward.

"Easier said then done," Edward retorts, pulling up his assassin's hood so to hide his features. Heading towards me, he grabs one of my hands and shepherds me towards the ladder that will lead us to the deck of the ship, holding my waist as the ship rocks to keep my swaying form steady. "Just keep your head down," he whispers in my ear as I brace the sides of the ladder, "it's bound to be coming down quite heavy out there, what with the storm and all."

"How are we supposed to steal a Brig?" I inquire, placing one foot on the first rung and hoisting myself up, "I can only assume it's a large ship… and considering the fact that we are only three people, I don't foresee us getting anywhere."

"There are many prisoners held on these ships," the dark-skinned man replies, "set them free, and they'll sail with us, no question."

With a quick nod in his direction, I continue to pull myself up the ladder – which, believe me, is tough considering the fact that until a few moments ago, my arms had been firmly secured around a large beam and shackled at the wrists. It took a lot of effort not to cry out from the pain that reverberated along my arms, particularly at my wrists where fresh blood began to ooze once again from the cuts made by my restraints. Reaching the roof, I push against the door only to find myself immediately pelted by heavy rain and strong, gale-force winds that manage to see my hair coming loose from its messy braid, large clumps of the dark curls flying into my face and momentarily obscuring my vision.

Climbing out from the underbelly of the ship, I reach down and offer Edward my hand – which he declines – and then take some time to absorb my surroundings, dulled by the grey backdrop of a storm at sea and crowded with the Spanish fleet Torres had condemned us to. It may have been beautiful, if not for that. "Now what?" I yell over the heavy winds, impatiently brushing my red hair out of my eyes.

"Free what men we can, then find a fast ship to flee in," Edwards responds, his grey-blue eyes scanning the multitude of ships within the convoy.

"Aye," the stranger agrees, already making his way to the edge of our current transport, throwing one leg over its side. Glancing back at the pair of us, he points in the distance and says, "there's a Brig in this fleet. I'll make my way to it and see you there."

"Edward," I whisper tugging at his sleeve to catch his attention upon spying a patrolling Spanish solider who I knew, despite the heavy shield of rain, would easily manage to spot us on ships stern deck.

Quickly and efficiently, he tows me towards some covered crates to hide from view and watches out of the corner of his eye for the approaching soldier. I myself, watch his companion disappear over the side of the ship, just managing to hear the distinct sound of someone crashing into a large body of water. "What do we do now?" I ask, hoping to keep the fear out of my voice.

"Shhhh," Edward growls, edging closer to the end of the crate and emitting a light whistle which immediately captures the attention of the soldier.

 _The idiot!_ I think, tugging again at his sleeve to stop him from making more noise, the knowledge that we would be captured and imprisoned again upon discovery kicking my anxiety into overdrive. Yet, as always, the fool does not listen to me and instead tears his arm out of my grasp and whistles softly once more. _Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!_ I immediately panic, my heart pounding furiously in my chest to the point where I feel it will break out of my chest.

Then, just as the solider turns the corner of our hiding spot, Edward launches himself at the shocked solider and tackles him to the ground, drawing his blade and plunging his rapier deep into the man's stomach with his usual relentless efficiently.

 _What just happened?_

"Do you still doubt me?" Edward asks in bemusement, chuckling when he catches my flabbergasted expression – I have no doubt that my eyes are wide with surprise and my mouth is hanging open in shock, in fact, I feel almost as if my expression rivals that of a cartoon character.

"Did you have to-"

"Kill him?" Edward finishes, raising a blond eyebrow, his voice laced with exasperation at my cluelessness, "you know that I do, Tess."

"Tessa," I pause, frowning slightly as I study his entertained expression, "and no, you don't. Why couldn't you just knock him out like you did the guys below deck?"

"I'm not even sure I knocked them out, Tess. Besides, we don't have time to argue this any further, we must get to the Brig of this fleet and escape from this godforsaken convoy before the storm really hits."

"But-" I begin.

"For god sakes Theresa," Edward growls, grabbing my shoulders in his tight grip, both the sudden movement and use of my full name stunning me into silence, "I refuse to let us die here. If I'm going to go to a watery grave, it won't be today and it certainly won't be aboard one of Torres's ships. So unless you want to die, shut up and just follow my lead, okay?"

For a moment all I can do is stare at Edward in stunned disbelief but then, it all seems to click – the enormity of the situation; the fact that I could very well die here without any answers to the multitude of questions I had since my arrival in Edward's world. I needed those answers and the only way I would get them was if I would survive this moment. So, steeling my nerves, I answer Edward with a quick nod and allow my companion to tug me forth into the unknown.

Straight into the eye of the storm.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Lay aboard, lads!"

Stumbling aboard the deck of the commandeered Brig – which, despite my imagination, was actually not that much larger than Bonnet's Schooner – I try not to slip as I hurry towards Edward, who is already at the helm of the ship, his eyes carefully studying the rescued pirates as the fling their exhausted bodies onto the deck of the vessel from the untameable sea.

"Save your singing for Davy Jones, you Jagbats!" Edward's fellow prisoner yells at the new crew, reappearing aboard the Brig's deck as earlier promised, "it's a hard wind coming!"

 _A hurricane…_ I think, swallowing the rising bile in the back of my throat, _perfect, absolutely wonderful…_

"The man speaks true," Edward bellows at the disorientated pirates who, with fear colouring their eyes at the prospect for what is to come, immediately spring into action, following Edward's commands. "You lot weigh anchor. As for the rest, half on the foremast and half at main! Let's outrun this hurricane!"

"Aye!" Come the crews' cries as they desperately begin pulling out ropes, securing cannons to the sides of the ship, as they ready the vessel for both the hurricane's deadly winds and possible attack from the accompanying ships of the convoy.

"Can we outrun a hurricane?" I inquire, gripping the wooden railing of the ship as it rocks dangerously side-to-side.

"We can try," came his response, "watch those Galleons, men! See they don't give us any trouble."

"Aye!"

"Galleons?" I ask the dark-skinned stranger in confusion, angling my face away from the pelting rain yet still managing to glance at the man from out of the corner of my eye.

"The larger ships of the fleet," he explains, pointing at the large vessels boarding our smaller Brig. "The little ones are gunboats," he points out, nodding over at the smaller ships powering towards us with what can only be described as stubborn determination as the rough seas ravage their smaller forms, "but neither should give us much hassle, the Galleons are far too slow in this kind of weather and the gunboats far too weak to survive out here for long."

"So why are we firing?" I scream as our ship emits a large roar as several cannons are fired at the smaller ships.

"Because they're firing back," Edward answered for the other man, as the smaller ships own artillery bombards out much more sturdier vessel, "bark any orders you think wise, mate. Tess, hold on tight and try not to get in the way."

Glaring at my companion, I stick out my tongue in response, but cry out at the ship is devastated by rapid a barrage of fire from the multitude of smaller ships quickly gaining on us.

"These men know their place," the stranger replies, one hand steadying my form as I nearly fall over from the sudden attack, "they'll see us home."

"Thank you," I say breathlessly, my eyes widening as I watch lightening set a ship ablaze. "Oh my God," I whisper, trembling with astonishment, "how the Hell are we going to survive this?"

"Rogue wave!" comes a cry from the front of the ship.

Jerking my head towards the bow, I feel my eyes widen in distress as a large wave rises up before our small Brig in what may appear to result in a devastating calamity. There was no way that this ship, no matter how sturdy it appeared to be, with it's wooden bow and delicate masts could survive that massive upsurge yet, to my disbelief, Edward turns the ship to face the rouge wave head on.

 _What is he doing!_ I think, bracing myself against the rail as the ship collides head on with the wave and then continues on with what seems to be only minor damage. _How did he manage to do that?_

"Waterspout!"

"What's a waterspout?" I scream, only to catch glimpse of large torrent of water spiralling out of the rough sea. "Oh," I whisper, feeling a combination of exhaustion and nausea, as the spout narrowly misses the delicate vessel.

Honestly, I found Edward's ability to steer the ship in this weather both astounding and admirable. It was clear that his abilities ranged far beyond being able to takedown a barrage of men – his capability as a ship's captain amazed me when we sailed with Bonnet but his talent here and now, navigating clear a multitude of waterspouts, rogue waves and perusing ships was simply, in one word, remarkable. He was definitely a pirate – no, a captain – no doubt about it.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of pushing through oncoming winds and wild waves and hysterical confusion abroad the wild seas, the water manages to settle and we are able to take a brief moment to gather our bearings and just… well… breathe.

Collapsing beside Edward's exhausted form, I use my shoulder to gently nudge his and once I had his attention, I learn over and press my lips against his cheek – tasting the mixture of salt from the sea spray and clean water from the rain as I did – smiling at his astonished look. "Thank you," I say, "despite the mess, you got us out of there in one piece."

For a moment, we simply stare at each other, drinking in each other's appearances before Edward gets to his feet, facing the storm we left behind, lightening flashing off in the near distance. "By God," he breathed, acknowledging his fellow prisoner with a nod as the muscular man strolls towards him, "we pulled this one straight from the teeth of Neptune… I'm Edward." He holds his hand out and immediately the man takes it, the two shaking, "much thanks for your aid back there."

"Adéwalé," the man introduces, releasing Edwards' hand, his eyes drifting from Edward's face to mine.

"Theresa North," I greet with a smile and a quick nod, "but you can me Tessa."

"Ever been to Nassau, Adéwalé?" Edward inquires, "I doubt Tessa's been."

"No I haven't," I reply, a note of curiosity hidden within my voice.

"Not yet," comes Adéwalé's response, a smile tugging at his lips.

"By God," Edward murmurs, leaning over the starboard side of the Brig, assessing the damage, "She took some knocks, didn't She?" He pauses, turning once more to face Adéwalé and myself, "I think I'll keep her."

"Keep her?" I say, getting to my feet with some assistance from Edward.

"All hands aft, Lads," he calls out to the crew, taking the helm in one hand and keeping my hand in the other, "we're taking this one home!"

"Home?" I find myself asking, frowning in confusion and glancing at Adéwalé's bemused expression, his heavily muscled arms folded firmly against his chest as he watches Edward take command.

"Home, Tessa," Edward smiles giving my hand a squeeze and to my great surprise, pulling my body to his side so I nestle against his wet but warm form, "we're going home."


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: TWO UPLOADS IN ONE DAY! YAY :) I hope this means that if I can't upload another chapter the following week you won't be too disappointed with me ^_^ Enjoy your chapter :P**

* * *

 **Chapter 6:**

"Are we sailing for Nassau?" I find myself asking, watching the brilliant blue water of the sea splash against the sides of Edward's Brig. I lean against the side of the ship, my chin placed firmly in the palm of my hand, my legs crossed against the solid wood to allow my weight to be rested purely on the ship.

Compared to the disaster earlier that day, with the hurricane and the waterspouts and the rogue waves and just… everything… the turquoise-blue water and luminescent sun upon the horizon, which casted a loving shadow over the occasional island and the Brig itself, was a welcome reprieve from the fast-paced life I had been living over the previous days. Thinking it over, I really hadn't stopped moving since arriving in 1715 – I'd gone from being threatened by a man I now considered somewhat a friend, to sailing for Havana, finding out that I had somehow managed to plunge myself back in time, to assisting Edward with a break-in that ended in our arrest and passage aboard Torres's Spanish Fleet, to being thrust into a high-speed escape from both a tempest and perusing enemy ships. It was honestly nice just relaxing aboard the vessel, watching the world sail by as we headed for our next destination which, without a doubt, would be filled with a collection of escapades.

I was both excited and terrified.

 _What exactly have I gotten myself into?_ I wonder, smiling as I watch a pod of dolphins wander up to the slow-paced transport, their sleek bodies clearly visible beneath the crystal waters of the Caribbean. _Oh well, at least the scenery is amazing._

"First, we'll probably have to stop for some supplies," Edward eventually answers, fiddling with the helm lazily, "after that, we'll head straight for the colony."

"Isn't Nassau home to pirates?"

"Exactly," he says with an enthusiastic grin, acknowledging Adéwalé as he makes his way towards Edward. "I've made my choice, Adé," he says to the larger man, the new nickname rolling off Edward's tongue as easily as mine often did, "I'm calling her the Jackdaw, for a sly bird I loved as a child in Swansea." He strokes the ships helm lovingly as he says it, his grey eyes drifting towards the bow of the ship, the endless sea stretching before us.

"A dark little creature, no?" Adéwalé humbly inquires, but I can't help but hear the bite in his words.

"Are you upset?" I ask, taking a few hesitant steps towards the stranger – at least, he was still a stranger to me – curiosity once again pushing me forward into matters that weren't my own, "are you upset that Edward took the Brig for his own?"

"Ha-ha," he chuckles, shaking his head in amusement at my obviously unnecessary concern, "it is a rub, Fair Lady, I have learned to endure sailing amongst faces of such…" he pauses, studying both Edwards' face and my own with a bemused smirk. "Fairness," he eventually decides upon, shaking his head at my bewildered expression.

"Oh," I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. _I forget about the racial discrimination during these times, Shaun would mock me for my oversight,_ I scold myself, turning my face back towards the calm sea, _but it makes sense. This was a common time for slavery and unfortunately Adéwalé_ _fits the bill._

"It's true," Edward begrudgingly admits, shaking his head in what I assume is disappointment, "most of these men wouldn't accept you as a Captain… so, what fair role would complement such _un_ fairness?"

"I'll be your Quartermaster. Nothing less," Adéwalé responds, leaning against the railing separating what I assume is the upper deck – where the helm was located – from the lower deck, where the rest of the crew scurried about, keeping themselves preoccupied atop such a fair, albeit dull, sea – well, it must be monotonous to them. For me? It was certainly more beautiful rather than dull.

"Alright," Edward agrees, taking the helm once more with both hands but still focusing on Adéwalé's lounging form, "and as Quartermaster, have you any immediate counsel for his novice captain?"

"Didn't you say we need supplies?" I ask, desperate to be helpful in some way.

"Right again, Fair Lady," Adéwalé agrees to my satisfaction, my cheeks reddening at his use of 'Fair Lady' when addressing me, "rest and repast would do us good before heading to Nassau. Water for drinking. And hunting for food and repairs."

"Well reasoned, sir," came Edward's reply, "hunting it shall be. We'll find a decent place to drop anchor."

"And where exactly will we do that?" I inquire hesitantly, gesturing out at the almost-empty landscape, "There's not much around here."

"The islands, Tess," Edward informs me, glancing at my willowy form from out of the corner of his eye to rest upon me as I lean against the ships sturdy rail, "where else?"

"Oh," comes my seemingly frequent response. Turning back to the turquoise sea, I resume my inspection of the crystal clear water and the barren landscape. Relishing in the brief sunlight dancing on the skyline, the dolphin pod still dutifully swimming beside the Brig, I find myself once again wondering just how I managed to get myself into this situation.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"So, all he's got to do is hunt a few animals and then we'll be on our way?"

Adéwalé turns to face me as I watch Edward leap off the starboard side of the ship and into the clear waters of the islands bay. His lean form pushes through the calm waters towards the shore with urgency, so to come back faster with the necessary supplies. With a murmur of agreement, Adéwalé leans against the ships starboard side with me and watches the sunset as he answers my question, "the ship is in dire need of repair. We need to toss the cannons, clear the Gundeck, repair the ship…"

"Was it in really that bad of a state after the storm?" I enquire, angling my face towards him with an expression of surprise. I hadn't realised the extent of the damage towards the ship; it hadn't looked that bad to me. After all, I was simply astonished that the wooden and somewhat frail vessel had actually managed to combat and survive the typhoon and the artillery from challenging ships. I was stupefied by the fact that this ship – so different from the ones of my own time and perhaps far les superior to those – had managed to keep us afloat, had allowed us to survive.

"A clutter of linstocks heaped like tinder," Adéwalé replies with disgust in his voice, as he describes the scene of the Gundeck from earlier, "one with a slowmatch still burning. And just nearby, two barrels of gunpowder fit to explode at the touch of a spark – luckily, we have storage space to stow the remaining barrels good and proper… the supplies that the captain is gathering will be necessary to maintain the ship and will allow him to fashion himself a brand new holster for a pistol – if he manages to catch enough prey. Speaking of which," he says, meeting my curious gaze, "what exactly happened to the pistol that Edward gave you prior to boarding this Brig?"

"The pistol?" I enquire, blinking with confusion before I remember the old gun that Edward had thrust into my hands aboard the prison ship. "I – ah – lost it," I admit sheepishly, fiddling with the cuff of my sleeve, reluctant to meet Adéwalé's knowing gaze, "when we were swimming in those rough seas towards the ship… do you think Edward will mind?"

"No, I was just curious."

"Speaking of curiosity," I hesitantly begin, nervous of the much larger and no doubt stronger man beside me, but still interested in the man himself, "what exactly were you doing on the ship?"

"Ah… well, I was sailing aboard a ship much like this but we ran aground off the coast of Havana and were captured by Spanish authorities," allowing himself a heavy sigh, Adéwalé shoots me a weary grin as he continues with his story, "I was born into slavery and working at a plantation when pirates raided the place and killed my master. I stole a crate of sugar and helped them pillage the damn place – as a reward, they allowed me to remain with their crew. When the Spanish authorities pulled the ship up, I was able to keep my life through my fluency in English, French and Spanish – they were sending me to Spain to be an interpreter. And, well, you know the rest."

"So you found yourself chained alongside Edward and broke free, incapacitated a number of guards, set me free and then procured this very ship, along with a number of freed captured pirates and escaped one Hell of a storm to end up on this island in the middle of nowhere," I summarise in one breath with an accompanying laugh, "Edward seems to get a lot of people into his own messes."

"It was my idea to seize this Brig," Adéwalé patiently reminds me, "technically, it was _I_ who dragged the two of you into my plans."

"Hmph, either way, we've ended up as a crew."

"How about you?" he suddenly asks after a brief moment of silence, "what did you do to get you shackled to a beam within a heavily armed ship?"

"It's a long story," I sigh, running a hand absently through my messy locks as I do, struggling to come up with the appropriate story to detail to my fellow crewmate. "The short version is we were caught, falsely accused and imprisoned aboard the Spanish Treasure Fleet, much to Edward and my own frustration."

"You two look like you're having a great time," came Edward's sarcastic opinion unexpectedly to my right as he hoists himself, wet and exhausted, onto the deck of his ship, "can I join in on the conversation?"

"Edward!" I call out happily; jogging to his side and giggling as he shakes his head, droplets of seawater sprinkling against my face as he does so, "welcome back."

"Ahoy Captain," Adéwalé says, sauntering forwards, "did you find what you need?"

"My needs and wants are oceans apart, mate," comes his unnecessarily complicated response. Grunting when I elbow him in his side, he rolls his eyes and ruffles my already untidy hair, persisting upon answering Adéwalé's question. "But I did manage to fashion myself a new holster and gather some supplies that we can sell in Nassau, to make repairs for the ship. All I need now is a pistol to lie in it. Tess, where's the one I gave you?"

"I… I lost it," I squeak out, flinching at Edward's dumbfounded expression, "I'm sorry, I lost track of it when we were swimming towards the Jackdaw… to be honest, it's a miracle I managed to keep track of you in that heinous weather."

"Here," Adéwalé says, extending towards Edward a pistol which seems to have appeared out of nowhere. At my own dumbfounded look, Adéwalé allows himself a quick chuckle before hastily explaining to me that he located it within the hold of the ship. Honestly, if Adéwalé managed to procure that pistol through magic, I wouldn't be surprised – I was after all a 21st century women that had somehow wound up in the 18th century.

Anything was possible.

"Hm, it's little more than a blowpipe," Edward grunts, testing the weight of his new weaponry in his hand, "but it'll do," he eventually concedes, placing the firearm in its fresh holster.

"Don't be picky," I scold, following him as he makes his way back towards the steering wheel of the ship, my steps doubling to match his lengthy stride, "you're lucky Adéwalé managed to unearth something from below deck."

"I'm not being picky," he argues, taking his position at the helm, "just stating a fact. Are we rested, Adé? Or shall we idle a while longer?"

"Best weigh anchor," Adéwalé answers from behind me, following the two of us as we humbly bicker, "I think the crew is itching to reach civilisation."

With a chuckle, Edward turns to his new companion and smiles, shaking his head in amusement, "you'll find no civilisation in Nassau. But it's a fine place to be merry all the same."

"Oh for God sakes," I exclaim to both men's surprise, resting my hands on my narrowed hips, "I don't know about you two, but I'm starving, I desire a warm bed and I want to get out of this godforsaken dress and corset, because as much as it's fine in everyway, it's completely ruined and it's a miracle I can breathe with this stupid stay!" Blinking at my outburst, the men turn to look at each other, confused as to how to answer me. "So," I continue, strolling towards the helm and resting a hand on the large wheel, looking Edward deadest in the eye with all the seriousness I can muster, "can we go or not?"

0-0-0-0-0-0

Although it pained me to admit it; Edward was right.

It was clear upon our arrival that Nassau could hardly be called a civilisation.

Despite it being the largest city, capital, and commercial centre of the Bahamas – as Edward informed me – the city was little more than a seaside shanty town, the only notable building being the large and possibly heavily-armed fort situated atop the island, overlooking its bay. Unlike Havana, which had an air of authority assisted through the presence of navy and land-based soldiers, Nassau emanated a sense of freedom – an untameable providence bordered by lush, overgrown scenery which no doubt housed a collection of wild animals.

"So, it's a republic?" I ask Edward once we land on the shore.

"Correct," Edward answers, helping me out of the small rowboat we used to make it inland, his hands gently guiding and supporting my swaying form as I once again begin the painful process of managing to walk on solid land. "It is a self-appointed Pirate Republic, operating under a revolutionary form of government. A free and liberated place."

"You sound fond of it," I say with a small smile, amused with his tangible excitement, which had been present long before our arrival to the town.

"It's…" he pauses, struggling to find the right words.

"Home?" I offer, recalling the word from one of our earlier conversations.

"Yes… home."

"Go on, Captain Queernabs!" a voice echoes across the beach as we move further inland, "tell me I'm under arrest… tell me!"

Pelting past us, a red coat man scrambles for safety, his face pale and terrified – it was almost amusing, if I wasn't so petrified at the prospect of meeting more pirates myself. "Friends of yours?" I inquire faintly, glancing at Edward who wears his familiar, devil-may-care smile.

"Fly away, boyo!" calls the other man before Edward can answer, waving his hand at the escaping man, his voice laced with mirth at the display, "run back to your master!"

"Aye," comes Edward's eventual reply, his own voice supressing the laughter I knew lay hidden, "we were privateers together before the wars ended… I'll introduce you."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I hiss pointlessly, because, like always, Edward ignores my reply and saunters forward, grabbing my hand once he realises I am not following his lead.

"Come," he instructs, towing me towards the town, determination and excitement quickening his step, "we'll head to the Old Avery Tavern… they'll all be there, easier to make the introduction to the group. Less work for me."

"Edward!" I cry, stumbling over the fraying skirt and loose pebbles as we make our way into the capital, towards a reasonably sound-looking structure, which, judging from the rowdy shouts and drunken singing, is the tavern Edward had just mentioned. "Is this really a good idea?"

Before he can reply, one of the voices from earlier speaks up and drowns all of my hopes as fast as the men at the bar guzzle their rum, "by God, you're a sight for salty eyes! Come in and have a drink."

Shooting me a triumphant grin, Edward drops my hand and strolls confidently into the pub, feeling as ease here as he does on his ship. And, not knowing quite what to do and feeling out of place amongst the bawdy drunkards, I find myself following Edward obediently, choosing to study the dusty wooden floorboards rather than meet the eyes of his fellow pirates.

"Morning all," Edward replies cheerfully.

"Ahoy Kenway," responds the other voice and I hear the distinct clink of two glasses being handed over. There's a brief pause and then suddenly, "who's this?"

Jerking my head upright, I try to rearrange my distinctly horrified expression into one that is more pleasing but the smile dies on my lips as the men scrutinise me. The one who had asked for my identity studies me with his murky grey eyes, a smile curling his lips whilst the other looks upon me with gentle eyes, aura of sophistication and authority radiating off both him and his companion. Both are ordered and neat in appearance, despite their reasonably scruffy attire which seems to be common amongst all pirates.

It was strange that, despite my terror, I could look upon the two men opposite me and only assess them on their appearances. _It's completely shallow,_ I think, offering the two a shy smile, _but oddly comforting… after all, they're just two guys… two guys who could easily kill me if they wished!_

"Theresa North," Edward introduces, clapping my shoulder, which causes my imbalanced body to stumble forwards, "sorry Tess, didn't mean to hit you so hard."

"I'm fine," I croak, waving away his concerns and straightening the front of my ruined gown the best I could, "no need to worry yourself."

"Who said I was worried?"

Glaring at him, I quickly mutter 'ass' under my breath which judging from his friends' loud chortles, it was very clear that they could hear me.

"And who are you?" the same man inquires, nodding over at Adéwalé who comes up behind his Captain silently, acknowledging me with a small smile and gesture in my direction.

"Adéwalé, the Jackdaws' Quartermaster," Edward answers proudly, nodding towards the bay where the silhouette of the Jackdaw can be clearly seen from the tavern's veranda

"Jackdaw?" the man scoffs, shaking his head with amusement, "you named your Brig after a proxy bird?"

"And what's wrong with that?" I snap, folding my arms over my chest, strangely insulted by the strange man's laughter. Despite the ship not being my own, it was the vessel that got myself, Edward, Adéwalé and the rest of our crew out of peril and as a result, I found myself fiercely protective of the sly ship.

"I like her Kenway," the other man informs his fellow pirate, clasping his shoulder, "she's got spunk."

I don't know how to respond to that.

"Adé, Tess, these men are the better part of our growing confederacy here. This is Edward Thatch, Ben Hornigold," he nods over at another men lounging beside, a bottle in his hand, half-hidden by the shade of the sun, "James Kidd."

"Pleasure," I say sarcastically, my eyes locked on Thatch whose name immediately rings a bell. _So that's the notorious Blackbeard and the famous Hornigold… impressive company you keep, Edward._

Adéwalé simply nods at the trio and hastens towards the bar, clearly ready for a glass or two of alcohol – personally I don't blame him, but after my last experience with the beverage, I'd rather steer clear of the dark liquid.

"You let him carry a pistol, do you?" Hornigold whispers, edging closer to Edward.

Disgusted, I glare at the well-kept man, snarling, "Adéwalé saved both of our lives. You're judgement is unwelcome and unappreciated."

Hearing my response, Adéwalé raises his pitcher of rum in gratitude and I can't help but feel a little pleased that I was able to support a very trustworthy man from Hornigold and Blackbeard's scrutiny.

"Oh yes, I like her!" Thatch laughs, throwing an arm around my shoulders to my combined disgust and astonishment, "glad to have you around lass, it was getting to be a little dull around here."


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: So, after what feels like forever, I finally have my internet working again after the move which means that I can post my fanfiction again, yay! So... as a special treat I've decided to upload chapter 7 and I'll try to aim for chapter 8 by Saturday night... therefore, I leave you with my thanks for continuing to read my beloved fanfic and I hope you enjoy reading the next instalment of Down the Rabbit Hole**

 **\- AshTree13 xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 7:**

Standing with my back to the pirate town, the warm waves of the Bahamian sea roll gently inshore and submerge my feet in their foamy grasp.

If I were to use one word to describe the moment, it would be peaceful. Or breathtaking. The noise of the busybody town was just a dull hum in the background, instead, the cry of seagulls and the lapping of waves against the golden shores took precedence. Here, upon closing my eyes to the spectacular site of crystal blue waters and a clear azure sky, I could almost imagine myself at home - the feel of the wet sand between my toes, the salty tang of the sea breeze, the way the warmth of the saltwater caressed my feet and legs; the very sound and sight made me nostalgic.

It was... in a word, nice.

And, like all nice things, the moment comes to a swift end.

"Fairy Stories?!"

Struggling to contain my sigh, I open my eyes and blink at the sudden and bright sunlight. Raising my hand to shield myself from the strong beams, I turn my head back towards Nassau and glare at Edward as he paces the length of the beach, kicking the occasional pebble and driftwood with a scowl plastered across his handsome features.

"Let it go, Kenway."

"Let it go?" he replies, halting his pace to stare at me, his face a mask of disbelief, "have you been drinking the seawater or something, Tess?"

"Tessa," I exhale, knowing that I was fighting a losing battle in regards to both the subject at hand and my new nickname, yet unable to stop myself from responding – a curse which served to only egg Edward on with his tirade.

"You were there with me, Tessa," he continues, resuming his stride, hands clasped behind his lean back, "You saw how pissed Torres was when he discovered the Sage was gone, you saw his fear – the terror of losing a invaluable treasure. Torres believed in the Observatory and the Sage was his key, why else would he ship us off on a treasure fleet bound for Spain? Why go to such great lengths to hide the truth? I bet you he didn't think we'd escape, that's why he had you in heavy chains and me under heavy guard."

"Yes, Edward, I was there," I agree, picking up my ruined skirts and heading towards my companion. Once I reached the pacing man, I reached out and grasp his elbow, preventing further movement and forcing the contemplating pirate to face my stern gaze. "And yes, I believe that the Sage was important to Torres, but I also think that he mistrusted you from the start; once he learned that you were not his 'friend' Duncan Walpole, his suspicions were confirmed."

"Did you have a point?"

"Edward, I believe you," I inform him exasperatedly to his obvious surprise and pleasure. I give his arm a reassuring squeeze and step back, burying my toes in the warm, sun soaked sand as I do and hope desperately that the rest of my response satisfies the unruly pirate, "the Observatory must exist, why else would Torres react so negatively to the Sage's disappearance. It also explains his eagerness to be rid of us; he must have believed that we too were after the power that the Observatory can offer."

"We were," Edward says, interrupting me as he often does. Pausing, he runs a hand through his golden locks and gives me a sheepish smile, "well… I was after it…"

"Details," I sigh, shaking my head with a smile and giggle to which Edward responds with a grateful grin and a chuckle of his own. "But," I continue, glancing out towards the Jackdaw and the fellow ships decorating the bay of Nassau, "you need to let it go. For now. For now, it is a fairytale and you can't afford to go chasing after fairytales; not when you have a fresh crew, which I guarantee will be less than enthusiastic to go chasing after a treasure that may or may not be real... besides, you need the Sage to access it, right? That's just what I've gathered from the entire discussion."

"You… have a point," Edward reluctantly concedes, folding his arms over his chest in submission.

"I'll make you a deal-"

"Who says you're in the position to make deals?" Edward interrupts, his lips twitching into a teasing smile.

Glaring at Edward for his disruption, I fold my arms over my chest and wait expectantly for the mumbled apology that follows soon after. Unfurling my hands to instead fiddle with my thick braid, I continue where I left off, "I'll make you a deal, you find me a nice, warm bed for the night and a delicious, hot meal then I'll help you work out the next step in your plan to become the rich pirate you desire to be. I don't know about you, but that seems like a pretty good deal."

"You actually do have a brain in that pretty head of yours," he comments after a brief pause, ducking out of my reach with a raspy laugh as I attempt to hit him for the tactless comment.

"You'll pay for that comment!" I giggle, picking up my skirts and chasing after him as he escapes up the beach, escaping my grasp as I run behind him, my skirts in one hand. Sand flies as we race around the beach, ignoring the curious stares of the occasional passerby. And, like the klutz that I am, I find myself tripping over my own feet and the driftwood littering the golden shore, stumbling right into Edward's waiting arms.

"You are a walking disaster," he murmurs into my ear, his breathe tickling my cheek. Moving his face back from mine so he can study my flushed expression, he reaches for a loose strand of my red hair and tucks it behind my right ear, his fingers lingering against my skin, "and yet, it's part of what makes you so... intriguing."

"Stop with the flattery," I breathe, feeling my cheeks burn at the compliment, "I still owe you punishment for your earlier negligent comment."

"Tomorrow? You promise we'll work out a fool proof plan?"

"I told you," I assure him, escaping from his gentle grasp and offering a small smile, "back in Havana... we're a team. You're stuck with me Kenway and like I said back then, I keep to now - I want to help you."

"Well then," cue his devilish smirk, "I look forward to it, partner."

0-0-0-0-0-0

"I'm going to kill him!"

There were days where I starting to feel as if I was slowly adjusting to this new, unexpected life that I had been thrust in. I no longer had trouble fastening the lacings of my stay, for example, and the strange but familiar dishes that I had been treated to were actually going down my throat and settling in my stomach with no issue. Not to mention, Edward had managed to organise a trip to the local seamstress in town and I had been able to repair the hem of my silk gown as well as pick out another two simpler dresses made from cotton, which were much more suited to the type of activities I now found myself participating in. Purchasing some leather, I was able to convince the seamstress to fashion me two pairs of pants - breeches, as she had correctly me, unimpressed with the odd request - which I paired with a pair of leather/hide boots which rivalled my comfortable combats, unfortunately and unintentionally abandoned with Bonnet back in Havana.

The new clothes, the ability to stomach the food I was given, the very fact that I was adapting to the new situation; despite how small and insignificant those events may be, they meant that I was adjusting to the foreign lifestyle, one I was no meant for in the first place. It was a sign of progression and as a person who likes to get things down as easily and efficiently as possible, it was huge relief that I could adjust.

It also meant that I was less likely to wind up dead, which was understandably a positive.

However, it was moments like these when it dawned on me that I wasn't apart of this world, both in the sense that I came from a different time and that I simply didn't suit the pirate lifestyle. It was also in moments like these that I realised that I was of no use to anyone, that I was an inconvenience to Edward and his crew.

The proof?

Crumbling up the torn piece of parchment inscribed with what could only be Edward's hand, I march towards the beach with the single purpose of seeing if it was true and upon reaching the shoreline, it became apparent that it was not some awful dream but a painstaking reality.

I had been left behind.

Again.

"That _asshole,_ " I shriek, causing a few seagulls to scatter.

Unfolding the crumpled note that Edward had left behind for me to discover the next morning, I read the single sentence over once again, my anger rising to boiling point each time my eyes scan over the cursive words.

 _Tess,_

 _Have gone with the crew and Hornigold to do some 'privateering' – stay out of trouble, in fact, stay in the room I've lodged for you._

 _\- Edward_

"I'm going to kill him!" I repeat to myself, although a little softer than before, reluctant to draw attention myself. I wasn't an idiot; I was a woman in a time where women had very little rights and I wasn't exactly the strongest girl you'd meet – it was something Desmond _and_ Shaun had always troubled me about, that is, my reluctance to improve my muscle mass. And although the constant nagging annoyed the hell out of me, I knew they did out of concern that I would get myself into some situation that I would be unable to wiggle myself out of - therefore, I was all for following Edwards' suggestion to 'stay out of trouble.'

But apparently, trouble likes to find me.

"Morning, Theresa."

Jumping at James Kidd's sudden outcry, I turn towards the slight man and nod a greeting, crunching the inked parchment in my tight fist and praying that the young man had not heard my personal tirade at Kenway, who was, I knew, a friend of Kidd's. I didn't want to appear disrespectful nor ungrateful for what Edward had done for me, so I hoped that he would overlook my dissatisfaction if Kidd had indeed overhead my mumblings. That and I wanted to make a good impression on the somewhat charming and exotic men who Edward was familiar with.

"Good morning, Kidd," I greet, awkwardly fiddling with the thin leather chain I had purchased the other day from a kind jeweller, the small charm – a tiny, white pearl – slipping in and out from between my fingers as I do so. After a brief pause, I try to find a topic that we could pursue and was relieved when I came to a conclusion. "You remembered my name," I tell him with a smile.

"Hard to forget a pretty name like yours," he replies with a wink, coming to halt before me, his hands shoved into the pockets of his breeches.

 _God, are all the men here flirts?_

"Honestly, I'm surprised to see you here, Theresa, thought you and Kenway were attached at the hip," he continues, adding the last part on as an after-thought and upon seeing my distasteful expression in reply, he allows himself a short, barking laugh. "What's with the look? I'm only saying that I thought you'd be sailing the Caribbean aboard Kenway's new Brig… the, uh, Jackdaw was it?"

"Just Tessa, Kidd… and you aren't the only one."

"Left you behind, did he?" he inquires, raising a thin black eyebrow in astonishment, "now… why would Kenway be such a fool to abandon a pretty young lady such as yourself?"

"Who knows," I reply, rolling my eyes in agreement, "I barely know what the man's thinking, he's just one surprise after another." Pausing, I consider the man in question and allow myself a heavy sigh, kicking at the smooth, golden sand of the Nassau beach, "to be honest with you, he probably thought it'd be better for me to stay behind. I'm not the best at sea and I'm not particularly helpful, I'd probably get in the way…"

"Don't beat yourself up, Tessa, I'm sure-"

"Although, how could the Bastard just leave me behind with no explanation save for his pathetic attempt at leaving a note?!" I explode, interrupting Kidd's comforting words - which, judging from his startled expression, he did not expect - in favour of ranting about my unfavourable Captain, "I mean, it would have been nice to get something other than a _sentence_ explaining what the Hell is going on! He could have let me in on what he was planning, that was the deal! Bloody _arse!_ "

"Obviously," Kidd begins after a lengthy period of silence, "you're not particularly pleased at being left behind…

"No shit Sherlock!" I snap, glaring at the innocent man.

"Whoa, I'm not the enemy here," Kidd chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. He hesitates and confers upon me a perplexed expression, "what's Sherlock? Is he someone you know?"

"Oh, sorry, it's just an expression," I apologise, more than a little regretful and my earlier tone. The poor guy was only trying to sympathise with me, to tell me that he understood my anger at Kenway and I had repayed him with an insult he didn't even comprehend. God, I was being a whiny bitch.

I hated it.

"Hm, okay then..."

"Seriously," I tell him, shaking my head in both amusement and apology, "it doesn't mean anything... I'm sure you got the gist of it..."

"Yeah," he agrees and once again the awkward silence from before stretches between the two of us. "Anyways," he continues, turning his gaze out towards the open sea, "if you're interested, I have a proposition for you."

"A proposition?" I ask, instantly captured by my insatiable curiosity.

"Judging from the way you reacted, you'll like what I have to offer."

"Oh, please tell me more," I beg, taking a step closer to the strangely welcoming pirate, "I'm going to lose my mind if I have to stay here on my own, there's not exactly much to do..."

"How would you like a taste of what it's like to be a pirate?"

"... pardon?"

"I'm planning to steal from a nearby plantation," he informs me, leaning back against the rough trunk of a nearby palm tree, his cool brown eyes studying my face with a mostly unreadable expression, "it's ambitious, but profitable, if I can manage it… I could use you, to distract the guards… think you could manage that?"

"Oh yes," I answer with a smile, striding forward to take his outstretched hand, "distraction I can do. You've got yourself a deal, James Kidd."

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Why look! It's the Bastard son of the late William Kidd! Still a mere boy and yet… ten times the demon his father was."

Strolling across the beach of Andres Island, Edward Kenway addresses James Kidd from across a small, blazing fire in which the latter was residing beside, conversing with two men who were possibly part of his crew. The two men in question share with Kenway a knowing smile before one passes him a stick in which a freshly cooked fish hangs speared off the end, it's skin crispy, the smell of a warm, recently prepared meal wafting in the air amongst the salty sea breeze and familiar tang of rum.

"Fancy seeing you here, Kenway," comes Kidd's reply, a wary smile on his face when addressing his fellow pirate captain, "still looking sleek and mean. Did you steal that costume from some dandy in Havana?"

Laughter from the two men.

"No sir, I found this on a corpse… one that was walking and talking shit to my face only moments before," comes Kenway's lofty response, his grey-blue eyes meeting Kidd's unflinchingly.

"Huh." The only reply Kidd could manage that seemed to appropriately fit the pirate's ominous declaration.

Straightening up and handing back the speared fish to its original owner, Edward motions for Kidd to follow his lead and the two walk off, leaving the mean roasting their meal in the fire. "So… what's this about a planned raid on a planation," Edward begins in a hushed whisper, "not keeping secrets from me?"

"Not very well it seems," comes Kidd's reluctant reply, his eyes drifting over Kenway's shoulder to an approaching figure whose face even from a distance is a mask of rage.

"Kidd-" Edward begins, ready to demand a truthful reply from the younger pirate before a familiar, feminie voice cuts him off in what could only be described as a shriek of fury.

"You Bastard!"

"Tess?!" unprepared for the appearance of the tiny woman, he finds himself being brutally assaulted by her petite fists which smack repeatedly into his leather protected chest, her pretty and usually angelic face flushed red with anger. "What the Hell are you doing here?"

"How dare you show your face after _abandoning_ me in Nassau, you ungrateful _jerk!_ " came her reply, one fist slugging his shoulder painfully in one quick swing of her right arm.

"What are you-"

"Don't give me that shit, you ungrateful cow," she snarls, her chest rising and falling rapidly from what he assumes is a combination of exhaustion and the tight constraint of her undergarments, "you left me and went on an adventure with your buddies. I know you think me useless – and maybe you are right – but I have news for you buddy, I am part of your crew whether you like it or not and whether _I_ like it or not, you are my ticket for finding my way around this place, so we are stuck together. _Understand?_ "

"Jesus Kidd, you brought her here didn't you?" the pirate accuses, rubbing his chest to soothe the pain from Tess's sharp, repeated blows, glaring at his 'friend', "why the Hell would you do that?"

"We made a deal," he answers, shrugging his thin shoulders, unconcerned with the threatening look his receives in response to his apparently incorrect reply.

"Stay out of it, Kenway," Tess agrees, folding her arms over her chest, her sea-green eyes narrowed in distaste, as she looks upon him, biting her rosy, plump lips as she does.

"You are impossible," he sighs, massaging his temple as the dull throb of an oncoming headache takes him by storm. "Kidd, could you just explain to me what is going on?"

"Everyday," Kidd begins, looking out towards the sea, satisfied that the confrontation had some to an end, "Schooners packed with sugar sail past, coming from nearby plantations."

"Most times," Tessa continues, "they apparently stop here and sell off a few crates. There's one man visiting today that would earn a fine profit, according to James."

"So, if you'd like to rob his plantation, I'll point him out," Kidd finishes with a smirk.

"I would," Edward replies with a nod and a quick glance at the angry redhead, "but you're staying-"

"Think again," she interrupts, knocking her shoulder into his as she makes to follow Kidd, "I'm not staying behind… and nothing you can say will change my mind."

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Not a bad haul," Edward admits happily, counting the crates of sugar as his crewman carry them from the broken-in warehouse to the safety of the Jackdaw, where it will be transported to a nearby sea village to be sold in order to make upgrades to the ship.

"Enough to improve the broadside cannons, you think?" Adéwalé inquires as he passes by carrying four crates of the white gold.

"From what Kidd told me, sugar is one of the most profitable trades in the Caribbean at the moment," I answer for Edward, noticing that the stubborn man is too distracted by the near presence of plantation guards and the counting of his newly acquired cargo, "so we should be able to do just that, Adéwalé."

"You're help, Fair Lady, was greatly appreciated," he replies with a grateful smile, carting off his cargo towards our vessel.

"Did you hear that? My help was 'greatly appreciated,'" I tell Edward with a smirk, raising an eyebrow as he rolls his eyes in response.

"Don't let it get to your head," he says, closing the warehouse doors with a soft click once all of the cargo and crew had exited the large wooden building, "you're distraction was helpful… but I could have done it all without your assistance."

"Why can't you just say thank you?" I hiss as we hid ourselves in the vegetation surrounding the grounds, making our way side-by-side back to the safety of the Jackdaw, "is it that hard?"

"Tess," Edward sighs, glaring over his shoulder at me, "can you just let it go?"

"No," I grab his shoulder and force him to stop and really look at me, face-to-face, my brow furrowed in confusion, "I thought we had an agreement. We're a team. You can't just leave me behind Kenway, I can be of use if you'd-"

"If I'd what, Theresa?" he growls, shoving away my hand which causes me to lose balance and fall back against the cold, hard earth, "if I'd let you do what? You don't know how to use a rapier, you're useless on the deck of the Jackdaw, you scold me every-time I do my blasted job-"

"You're 'blasted job' is stealing from innocent people!" I retort, my face flushed with anger as the argument begins to reach boiling point. Honestly, I don't know where this argument even came from - I was confused and more than a little baffled by Edward's sudden change in attitude. It was more than frustrating and I just couldn't work out for the life of me what I had done to insure his wrath. Yes, I'd tagged along with Kidd when he explicitly told me to stay behind and, I quote, 'stay out of trouble' but I was sick of being left behind.

I was sick of felling useless.

I could get my hands dirty, maybe I couldn't get them as dirty as Edward's but I could do something other than sit around and do nothing! I mean, I had helped out Desmond and Shaun and Rebecca and the Order plenty of times back in my own period.

 _But you knew what you were doing back then,_ a little voice reminds me, _and besides, it's not like you were ever in the field. You were a hacker, your job was behind a screen not face to face with someone trying to kill you._ You _didn't do the dirty work, that was Desmond, remember?_

 _Shut up_ , I tell myself, flinching away from Edward as his glare darkens the longer the silence continues.

"Tessa, stay out of my way," he warns, turning away from my disbelieving expression and continuing his approach towards the Jackdaw where it patiently awaits for our return, "or so help me, I will kill you. I don't _need_ you, you are a liability - a loose end - and I tie up my loose ends... don't make me do that, Tessa."

Remaining crouched in the shadows as Edward makes his way towards his ship, I feel the familiar knot of anxiety tighten it's grip in the pit of my stomach. The panic that had stuck with me from day one but had hidden in the shadows hit me once again with a vengeance and the moment Edward was out of an ear shot, I stumble to my feet towards the safety of the warehouse shadows. Reaching it, I find myself puking up the contents of my stomach in the nearby foliage, unable to keep the tears from streaming down my face as the reality of my situation hits me hard and mercilessly.


	9. Important Authors Note

**A/N: Hey everyone, sorry to be a pain but the chapter I uploaded yesterday has actually be edited and lengthened... reading it over this morning, I just wasn't impressed with what I had uploaded so I sincerely apologise and hope that you find the edits an improvement (I certainly do)**

 **Sorry again ^_^**

 **Hope you enjoy**

 **\- AshTree13 xoxo**


	10. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you to all those who went back and reread the last chapter - I'm sorry that the last update was an author's note informing you of the editing of a chapter, I never planned on posting a chapter and then regretting it therefore editing it the following day... so, once again I am so sorry. This chapter I hope has no major issues like the last! I have tried to comb through this chapter for any mistakes and I hope that I have managed to find them all... anyways... I did enjoy writing this chapter and I hope you can see why :) Enjoy my lovelies ^_^**

 **\- AshTree 13 xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 8:**

We arrived at Salt Lagoon with the rising sun at our backs, the crew in a joyous cheer for succeeding in a score of such magnitude and with the Jackdaw, Edwards' priceless Brig, refurnished with a set of brand new broadside cannons at Adéwalé's request. The mood was jubilant and the men talked about sharing pitchers of rum upon our arrival to shore, drinking the eventual night away with a woman to warm their bed that same evening. Nonetheless, while the crew chattered away sharing their laughter and satisfaction at their achievement, a grim cloud of exhaustion and misery hung over my head.

Since the incident at the plantation, Edward had not looked nor spoken a single word to me. If it wasn't for Adéwalé returning under the cover of darkness to retrieve me from the shores of the plantation, Edward would have abandoned me on the beach - his decision to remain was simply because he could not afford to lose his new Quartermaster... me, on the other hand, he no longer had any use for (if he even had any use for me prior to the argument.)

I hated the silence that fell between us. It was toxic.

More than that, I knew he was right and reviled that fact - I was a loose end, a distraction and despite the occasional praise and his almost constant flirtations, I was a nuisance to him and to his crew. I no longer belonged aboard this ship... then again, I never did.

Nor did I belong in Salt Lagoon in the company of Edward Thatch, James Kidd, Adéwalé and most certainly Edward Kenway, who were gathering around a small fire, toasting to their accomplishments.

"Here's to our Pirate Republic, Lads," Thatch said, passing Edward a bottle of alcohol in which he immediately guzzled down. "We're prosperous," Thatch continues, raising his own grey-blue bottle to the red-tinged sky in celebration, "and free, and out of the reach of Kings, Clergy, and debt collectors."

All pirates chuckled at the last addition to Thatch's short celebratory speech but it was clear they all concurred with the older man. Waving his bottle in agreement, Edward settles beside Thatch on the white-gold sand of the Salt Lagoon beach, settling himself as close as he could to the fire and as far away from me as he could achieve without hinting at our quarrel.

The last thing Edward had said to me prior to getting off the ship was to not breathe a word of our argument, that he would deal with me later and like the obedient little girl I had become, I nodded my head in compliance before boarding the small rowboat commanded by his Quartermaster. Not even Adéwalé was aware of our argument and although he could see that something wasn't quite right between the pair of us, he, like the good Quartermaster he was and like a gentleman, did not pry.

For that, I was thankful.

I felt that if I were to explain to Adéwalé what had occurred, I wouldn't be able to keep my composure. However, when Adéwalé settled himself opposite from Edward, beside Kidd, I followed and joined him on the sand, pulling my leather-clad legs to my chest. Resting my chin in-between my knees, I choose instead to watch the flickering orange-red flames than meet Edward's cold gaze, listening to the pirates discuss Nassau, their Republic.

"Near five-hundred men now pledge their allegiance to the Brethren of the Coast in Nassau," Kidd informs our small party, a wry grin tugging at his lips, "not a bad number."

"Truth," Thatch yells, leaning back against the mossy log behind his lean back. He pauses to take a swig of alcohol, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his embroidered jacket before looking amongst us; a hint of concern in his murky-grey eyes, "yet we lack sturdy defences. If the King were to attack the town, he'd trample us."

"Why would the King attack Nassau?" I find myself asking but instantly regretting the action the moment Edward, Thatch and Kidd turn their attention to me – the latter two with identical expressions of amusement at my somewhat foolish question.

"It's a pirate colony, young lady," Thatch tells me, his voice laced with mirth, "if the King wanted to rid the seas of pirates – and God knows he does – then all he'd have to do would send his Navy to attack the shores of our Pirate Republic. Destroy Nassau and poof! No more pirates."

"I… it was a stupid question," I admit at a mumble, briefly meeting Edward's blank stare, which he immediately breaks. _I've screwed up,_ I think miserably, blinking back tears, _but that does not mean I will cry… not in front of them, I refuse too._

I don't cry.

The only time I did was when I had my panic attacks – like at Cape Bonavista when Edward and I had first met – or when I was alone. Even with Desmond, Shaun and Rebecca, who were amongst my closest friends, family really, I rarely showed them my tears.

I do not need the pity.

"Then let us find the Observatory," Edward was suggesting when I tuned back into the conversation at hand, "if it does what the Templars claim, we'll be unbeatable."

"Not that twaddle again, Kenway!" Thatch growls, glaring at the younger man with irritation, "that's a story for schoolboys. I meant proper defences."

I watch Edward seethe in anger at the scolding but the man wisely remains silent – even an outsider like me could tell that Thatch held the authority between the five of us and Edward obviously had the sense not to challenge that power. I assume it was partially out of respect for the older man; Edward Thatch did have quite the reputation as a pirate and was no doubt one of the most successful and notorious pirates sailing the Caribbean. He probably had a king-sized bounty on his head and was more than a little wealthy on stockpiled treasure; perhaps Thatch was a figure for Edward to look up to.

I mean, even pirates have role models.

Then again, it could simply be fear that stopped Edward from incurring Thatch's fury.

"What's your fine plan then?" Edward asks, getting back on his feet and pacing the length of our small circle, stopping behind my stooped form and offering me a sip of his drink to my astonishment.

 _It's an act,_ I tell myself, shaking my head in decline.

"Steal a Galleon," Thatch says as if it was the most obvious answer to Kenway's inquiry, watching our humble interaction, "shift all the guns to one side. Would make a nice ornament for one of our harbours… if the girl doesn't want that liquid gold, I'll take it off your hands, Kenway."

"It will not be easy to steal a full Spanish Galleon," Adéwalé points out with a quick shake of his head, studying the experienced pirate as Edward passes him the half-full bottle. "Have you one in mind?" Adéwalé continues, a smile gracing his full lips as he watches Thatch guzzle down the rest of his rum in his newly acquired bottle.

"I do, sir. And I'll show you," Thatch replies with a slight slur, examining his empty bottle lazily as he draws out the remainder of his answer, "she's a Fussock she is. _Fat_ and _slow_."

" _Do_ we have a plan?" Edward inquires, as the rest of us slowly get to our feet, dusting sand off our breeches, ready for our pursuit of the Spanish Ship which would protect Nassau's existence… that is, if the mission was successful.

"I'm staying out of this one," Kidd says, keeping his seat by the warm fire, "I've got other fish to fry but you gents enjoy yourselves… don't get yourselves killed."

"Please," Edward scoffs, handing another bottle to the lounging boy, "who do you think we are?"

"A bunch of fatheaded idiots," Kidd replies with a chuckle. He takes a quick gulp of the brown-gold liquid before turning his attention to me, locating my hovering form behind Adéwalé's bulky figure, "how about you lass? You want to keep me company?" He says it with a wink and the hint of a flirtatious smirk, raising his bottle and patting the empty space beside him invitingly.

"I-"

"Lay off, Kidd," Edward barks, grabbing my hand and towing my hesitant body away before James and I even have a chance to think up a reply. However, maybe it's the fact he's interacting with me after ignoring me for what felt like hours – and it probably had been hours – or maybe it was the simple fact that I was in shock over his abrupt shift of manner, but I find myself allowing Edward to drag me along towards the Jackdaw in lieu of Thatch and Adéwalé.

The two wait beside the little rowboat, which will escort them to the safety of the larger vessel. "Hurry it up, Kenway, we don't have all day!" Thatch calls out to us, rolling his eyes in exasperation at our slow pace. However, I can't help the way my body weighs us down like lead because it is the shock that weighs me down and my body is numb with it.

Finally coming to my senses, I dig my heels into the ground and tear my hand from Edwards', screaming for him to 'wait' and to 'stop.' My face begins to turn rosy in colour as a mix of confusion, anger, regret and joy fill my body to capacity. My body now a concoction of emotion of which were difficult to distinguish from one another, particularly when the source of my complexity was standing before me, gazing at me with his own expression mixed with puzzlement and remorse yet obeying my request to stay put whilst I sorted through my muddled thoughts.

"We'll catch up later, Thatch," Edward replies, calling over his shoulder at the two men who wait impatiently for us to join them, "Adéwalé, take him aboard the Jackdaw, if you'd please."

"Aye, captain," came the expected response.

Turning his attention back to me, Edward patiently waits for me to look up at him before he speaks again, this time his voice soft and very gentle, "Tess… I'm not going to do anything to you… so… can we… talk?

Briefly, I wonder why he speaks to me so soothingly and it is only when I taste the salty tang of my tears that I realise he can see my distress highlighted by the tears trickling down my cheeks.

Looks like I broke my 'I don't cry' promise.

"I'm so sorry," I sob, unable to look the daunting pirate in the eye as I do so, afraid of what I might find in their azure depths, "you were right, I am a loose end. I'm a burden. How could I think that we could be partners, that we might benefit one another when I can't do my part?"

"Tessa, I-"

"I want to help," I interrupt, hiccupping as the flow of my tears increases, blurring my vision and damping my face further, turning it beet-red from the frustration, sadness and embarrassment that consumes me, "I just wanted to help but like always, I get in the way… I screw up!"

"Tess-"

"I don't know what I'm doing," I interject once again, wiping my sleeve across my sore eyes in an attempt to dry my face but the action is futile as the waterworks continue to plague me. "I thought I could handle this," I blubber as I sniff and hiccup, Edward becoming blurrier each time I try to blink back the tears, "but I can't. _I can't do this._ If I go with you, I'll only get in the way and I'll be a burden once again and I can't-"

"For God's sake, Tess," Edward yells, this time interrupting me.

My eyes widen at his sudden proximity. He leans towards me, one hand cupping my face, his thumb brushing away the tears that continue to fall down my face. His other rests at my waist, holding my trembling body close in what is both for support and for comfort – he is close enough to hug me and when he does, dropping his hand from my face and placing it on my waist to pull me close, the comforting action causes my body to stiffen in disbelief.

It seems today is full of surprises – the foreign action causes my head to spin and my vision to blur as the tears begin to once again cloud my vision. I know I should pull away, that this is _wrong,_ but I cannot.

I need the contact.

I need the comfort.

Allowing myself to relax into his tender embrace, I grant my tears jurisdiction to fall swifter than before, burying my face in his shoulder as I cry, releasing all the pent-up emotions that had been plagued me since the day I awoke upon the shores of Cape Bonavista. In all honesty, it was nice to have someone simply hold me in a welcome embrace, to show me that they cared. To have someone run their fingers through my hair, to have someone murmur gentle soothings into my ear, holding my body close to theirs, permitting me to breakdown and let everything go. It was the sweetest poison and I desired it above all else.

Edward had understood that fact.

Maybe the idiot wasn't as blind as I thought.

My body continues to shake even after I have spent all of my tears. He continues to play with my hair, curling strands around his coarse fingers, chin resting upon the crown of my head as he patiently waits for me to finish, to exhaust myself and my tears. When Edward feels that I am spent, he gently pulls away and with concerned eyes, examines my tear-stained face, his fingers ghosting across my cheekbones as he does. "Better?" he asks without a hint of mockery.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, wiping away the last of my tears, still unable to look him directly in the eye, "I'm sorry for everything. For the fight at the plantation, for my stupidity... for ruining your shirt..."

Barking a short laugh, Edward shakes his head at my apology. "No, I am sorry," he says, grasping my chin and tilting it upwards so that my eyes can finally meet his, their depths filled with regret and an intensity I couldn't place, "I shouldn't have said those things to you. It was a cruel way to repay your kindness... and the shirt can be fixed, Tess."

"But you were right," I insist, gripping the front of his robes as I do so, desperate for him to understand where I was coming from and that I didn't blame him for what had just occurred, "I don't know how to protect myself and as a result of that, when I try to assist you, I only end up getting in the way. I was just..." I pause, trying to think of an appropriate word, " _sick_ of feeling useless... of being left behind because I can't do anything to aid you."

"But I didn't give you a chance to try," he reminds me, bowing his head in apology, those beautiful grey-blue eyes of his locked upon the gold sand of the beach, bathed red in the glow of the rising sun, "and for that, I am truly sorry."

"No, I'm sorry-" I start.

"Tess, just let me apologise-" Edward interrupts.

"Only if you let me apologise!" I argue, glaring at the pirate as we come to a stalemate.

And just as suddenly as the argument began, the pair of us dissolve into laughter upon realising just how ridiculous the argument in question had become.

I find that I like the sound of Edward's laugh, the rough, deep chortle that is in every-way genuine and full of mirth. Of course, I'd heard Edward laugh before but it had never been what one might call a 'true' laugh - a laugh like that came from the heart, was not forced and was shared with another who shared in the hilarity of the situation. His laugh was nice, warm and was thoroughly enjoyable to the ear. Aware of the burning in my cheeks, I snap my mouth shut and hastily turn my face away from Edwards' sharp but confused gaze, placing one of my cool hands against the flushed skin in bewilderment as a warm, somewhat 'fuzzy' feeling rears its head within me.

After the overwhelming flood of emotions that had hit me earlier, this emotion was easy to identify from the disordered chaos that was my mind. However, the longer I considered the emotion in question, the more nauseous and disgusted I became with myself for experiencing the tempting, poisonous thought.

 _Stop it,_ I scold myself, biting my bottom lip as I do, _you barely know him... it's wrong! Besides that, you made a promise to yourself. Y_ _ou cannot - will not - under any circumstances feel_ that _for anyone other than-_

"Tessa? Are you well?"

Shaking me out of my thoughts, I turn back to Edward and allow a small, reassuring smile to grace my lips despite every instinct in my body telling me to flee from the captivating man. "I'm okay," I tell him, folding my arms around my torso as a form of comfort, "but I could, understandably, be better."

"This misunderstanding between us..." Edward begins slowly, his eyes flickering out towards the horizon where he watches the golden orb of the sun rise, it's expanding rays of light stretching across the now orange-red sea, "it's been cleared up?"

"Um... I suppose so," I agree, albeit uncertainly.

"I didn't mean the things I said," he insists, his expression begging for me to understand his reasons for his unfavourable actions from the previous night, "I feel responsible for you, you see and you were putting yourself at risk to help me... That day, at Cape Bonavista, I made a promise to you-"

"A promise you kept," I remind him, touching his shoulder but pulling away the moment my fingers begin to tingle, "you got me to Havana... and after that, you continued to look after me despite the fact I was no longer your concern. For that, you have my thanks and all that I have done to repay that thanks is be in your way."

"You're never in my way Tess," Edward assures me softly, moving his hand to cup my cheek once again, "remember that. What I said last night... they were lies fuelled by... by..."

"By?"

"I want to protect you," he admits.

"That means a lot," I say, moving away from his touch, "but it won't do."

"Tess?"

"I want you to teach me," I inform him and at his confused look, I emphasise my reply, "I want to learn how to defend myself... I took fencing as a child but I wasn't particularly good at it and quit after a few lessons..."

 _I also learnt how to shoot rabbits, but Edward doesn't need to know that... besides, the guns of this era are very different from the ones I learnt to handle and load._

"You want me to _teach_ you?"

"Yes," I answer, my reply firm without a hint of doubt. I look him directly in his blue eyes and nod my head, raising my chin in a show of confidence, "I don't want to learn how to kill but to defend myself... will you do it?"

"... are you sure?" he inquires after a short pause of consideration. "It is not an easy task, to learn how to defend ones self," he warns me but it falls on deaf ears.

"Please," facing him, the rising sun against my back, I bow my head before him and wait patiently for his reply.

Silence.

The only sound being the distant cry of seagulls and the celebrations of drunken pirates upon the beach.

"Fine," he eventually agrees to my delighted surprise, "but we do this my way."

"Thank you... and Kenway?"

"Yes, Tess?"

"It's Tessa," I tell him with a quick and no doubt cheeky grin.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"What are you planning, Kenway?"

Sparing a quick glance over his shoulder to see James Kidd at his back, Edward accepts the almost empty bottle of alcohol his mate offers, taking a hearty swing before returning his gaze to the sunrise, bathing in the soft glow of the new dawn."No plan, Kidd," he informs the boy, handing back the empty bottle, "I just don't want to see her cry again."

"Do you-"

"No," he cuts the younger man off before he can complete the sentence, his gut twisting at the words, betrayal weighing heavily on his shoulders, "I have a wife."

"Better not repeat that," Kidd warns him, now side-by-side to Edward, "besides... you and I both know that doesn't matter. If a pirate wants something, then we take it, no matter the repercussions."

"I-"

"Don't deny it Kenway, you can barely take your eyes off her."

"I feel responsible for her," repeating to Kidd the same lie he had told the woman in question prior to this engagement, "she is merely a... job... and I can't take my eyes off lest she get herself into trouble."

"Believe it or not, Theresa can handle herself," Kidd tells the older man, watching the red-haired girl stroll towards the shoreline perhaps waiting for Edward to join her so they could be on their way, only to pause at the incoming waves, bending down to pick up what appears to be a shell from the grainy sand, "she doesn't need you to be there constantly looking over her shoulder."

"But I-"

"I know, I know," Kidd says, cutting off Edward before he can repeat his earlier explanation, "you feel _responsible_ for her... you have to admit, however, that she is beautiful."

How could he deny that?

Fair, unblemished ivory skin that could easily burn beneath the brutal Caribbean sun. Hair like fire that hung in waves when unbraided to her waist, so soft to the touch it felt like water running through his fingers each time he played with a loose strand. Eyes that were simply green to others but the colour of the sea to him - both green and blue no matter what the lighting - and lips that were full, red and deliciously plump; dangerously kissable.

She was - in every sense of the world - perfection. The Spanish Soldier who had tried to assault her aboard Torres's fleet had not been wrong, she was a beauty. The bastard.

"Stay away from her, Kidd," he warns the young man, sparing a quick glare in the youth's general direction.

"She's not my type," Kidd answers, raising his hands in surrender, "and besides, it's just fun to flirt with her."

Cue Edward's grunt in reply.

"If you don't have feelings for her Kenway, then you better close you mouth," Kidd snickers after a momentary pause, slugging Edward's shoulder as he passes by the taller man upon returning to the warmth of the fire, "you're beginning to drool."


	11. Chapter 9

**A/N: apologies for the late upload... I have trials starting this week and my mind has been preoccupied with english and more english and... well... everything else *sigh* Anyways, enjoy the next chapter, my darling readers**

 **\- AshTree13 xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 9:**

Under the cover of nightfall, the Jackdaw trailed the French Templar Julian de Casse who, aboard his large and heavily armed Galleon the _El Arca de Maestro,_ disappeared in the night shortly after pursuit. However, through Edward's expert navigation and Thatch's extensive knowledge of the area, the crew was able to follow the Galleon through the silent sea into the cove of an Island known as the Great Iguana. A plantation, operated by de Case, was the only form of human civilisation operating on the small isle which was surrounded by pristine white beaches, masses of vibrant green jungle and what, from aboard the Jackdaw's deck, appeared to be ruins of a previous settlement, resting on the shores overlooking the iridescent blue sea.

"What now?" I ask Edward over my shoulder who – after a moment of hesitation – joins my lounging form at the starboard side of the ship, leaning his body against the sturdy ledge of his vessel in relaxation, arm pressed against my shoulder. "He may have seen us," I continue, trying to ignore the warmth that tingles up my arm at Edward's subtle but familiar touch, "de Casse, I mean… when we trailed him here."

"Unlikely," came Thatch's rough voice, his dominating figure fiddling with the Jackdaw's helm as he spoke, "his captain would have wanted the Galleon out of the way once we initiated fire on the escort ships… no time to study the vessel attacking their fleet, only time to flee from the wreckage."

"She's got a point though," Edward admits, studying the movement of the current as the waves crash softly against the Iguana's coast, "I – we – know the man and if he saw my ship, then he'll recognise it from his time in Havana… meaning-"

"Meaning he may wonder whose sailing her now," I finish, pushing myself off the railing and turning to face Thatch head on, my brow furrowed in concern as the possibility of capture holds my heart in an iron grip, "we can't risk it… I won't… _we_ won't go back to being prisoners of Torres,"

"Screw 'prisoner'," Edward snarls, spitting over the side, his face coloured with disgust at the mere thought of reimprisonment, "he'll have us hung for being pirates… he has the legal right to do so."

"Legal bullshit," Thatch scoffs, fixing us with a determined, stormy glare, "I don't want to lose that Galleon, and we need it for our success and survival… I know you both agree with me on that front."

"Let's think about it," I half-heartedly concede, fiddling with my leather chain as I do so, the pearl almost as cold as the gentle sea breeze that whispers through the night, "Wait until dawn…"

"Cover of night would be a better option."

" _Dawn_ , Thatch," Edward agrees firmly, placing a hand on my shoulder as he gravitates towards his mentor, a slight frown disfiguring his handsome features, "she knows what she's doing."

"And here I thought you two were having issues," he complains, "yet here you are, Kenway, backing the pretty lass up… fine. Dawn. But no later," Thatch warns, shaking his head in disbelief as he strolls away from the helm to the lower deck, grabbing a bottle of rum as he goes.

"Does everyone know about our 'little' argument?" I ask Edward, frowning slightly with irritation.

Edward looks down at me with smouldering, grey-blue eyes narrowed in thought. "Kidd…" Edward grounds out upon working out who was privy to our earlier discussion. His head whips to the right in order to face the mischievous boy with a threatening glower but Kidd merely returns the Edwards' intimidating demeanour with a cool, coy smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replies innocently, folding his arms over his chest, eyes studying Edward and I with an intensity that I couldn't place nor see, only feel from where I stood slightly behind Edward's dominating figure. "But," Kidd continues, the coy smile replaced with an impish grin, "it is rather adorable that you two finish each other's sentences."

"Kidd," I begin to protest.

" _Shut up_ ," Edward roars, cutting me off.

"Did I strike a nerve, Kenway?"

"Goddamn it," Edward moans, his body deflating in defeat as he braces his weight against the Upper Decks railing, "I thought you were going to sit this one out?"

"Changed my mind, didn't I?" came Kidd's reply, "glad I did, it's a great show, watching you and Tessa play together."

"P-play?" I splutter, knowing that by now my face resembled the skin of a ripe tomato, "w-w-what? I-I mean… _Kidd._ "

 _Damn it, what the Hell is_ wrong _with me?!_

"Yes, princess?" he flirts, aiming a suggestive wink in my direction.

"Oh for fuck's sake, bugger off James!" Edward growls, pushing past Kidd's lounging, laughing form. "You coming, Tess?" he calls upon realising that I did not follow, his grey-blue eyes studying me with a hint of intrigue and… affection?

 _God, I hope not._

"Coming," I cry back, a tiny smile curving my lips.

Edward nods in reply and strolls off, yelling out after Thatch who is perched on a crate near the bow of the Jackdaw, surrounding by a couple of crew – including Adéwalé – probably discussing tomorrow, already toasting to their possible success in the day's coming adventure.

"Do they always celebrate so early?" I remark to Kidd, gracefully sitting down on the study wooden steps, my feet dangling slightly above the final step, nudging his side gently with my leather-clad elbow. "Isn't it pointless if you don't have the results to show of your triumph?"

"'Live everyday as if it were you last,'" he quotes, grabbing my hands, stroking my unblemished palm with a calloused thumb of his own. As he does, his dark eyes watch the party with their usual intensity, a wry smile twisting his expression into one of nostalgia.

"A good friend told me that once," he explains at my inquisitive look, "he said that we should always live in the moment, never take for granted the life we were given. To make each day count."

"Your friend sounds wise," I whisper, the familiarity of the words reminding me of a similar conversation Shaun and I had exchanged shortly after Desmond's death.

' _He'd want you to make each day count,_ ' Shaun had said, squeezing my hand in a comforting manner. When I did not reply, my adoptive brother had thrown an arm around my shoulders and allowed a consoling squeeze, watching my silent tears trail down my pale cheeks, staining the luminescent, white hospital sheets. _'He'd want you to be happy, to live the life you've been given… to not take it for granted.'_

 _'I can't,'_ I remember responding, shaking my head even though the action had made the world spin, _'I don't think I have the strength to do that.'_

 _'You and I both know that you do,'_ Shaun had replied, gripping my chin in his free hand so my face had turned towards his, his thumb stroking the white gauze plastered across my cheeks, ' _we both know that Desmond believed that too… he believed in what we were doing and he paid the ultimate price. But, he would not want us to throw away our lives because his life is over. He'd want us to live… to make…_

"Each day count," I finish back in the present.

"Tessa?"

"Oh," shaking myself from my past – or should I call it my future? – I squeeze Kidd's hand in a somewhat reassuring manner, desperate to wipe away the concern that colours his handsome, youthful face, "sorry… did you say something?"

"It doesn't matter," Kidd sighs, getting to his feet and brushing imaginary dust particles of his dirty breeches, "You better run along Princes… we have a long day ahead of us and you'd probably like to get some sleep."

"Sleep sounds good," I agree as I take the hand Kidd offers me, pushing back the memories that I have from my mind into the deepest recesses of my thoughts, knowing that if I was to continue moving forward in this time, I must forget – for now – the experiences of my own.

 _But never him… I will never forget 'him.'_

0-0-0-0-0-0

The following day, the sky was a clear blue hindered only by the occasional white cloud passing by on whim, aided by the subtle breeze unfurling across a peaceful sea. The Jackdaw has weighed anchor – a decision has been made.

Now is the time for the mission to be completed.

Every crewman, including Adéwalé, Kidd, Thatch and myself, are gathered on the Jackdaw's lower deck waiting for Edward to emerge from his preparations in the captain's cabin. Being just a little after dawn, I can't contain the yawn that emerges from my closed lips, my right hand rubbing sleep from my eyes as Kidd chuckles on my left, amused by my sluggish behaviour. "I'm still asleep," I complain to him, bumping my shoulder against his forearm in irritation when the soft chuckles increase in volume, drawing more unwanted attention.

"Did Edward keep you up all night?" he teases and I don't miss the dirty connotations the simple inquiry hides.

"We were discussing the plan," I respond with a glare, folding my arms over my chest defensively, "then Edward showed me how to load a pistol..."

"And... that's all you did?" Kidd playfully suggests, wiggling his eyebrows as my face flushes with mortification at what Kidd is hinting at and at the knowing smiles Thatch and Adéwalé briefly exchange.

"Yes!" I cry in distress.

The entire crew bursts into laughter. I want to slap each and everyone of them at that exact moment, but I settle for smacking Kidd - hard! - across the chest, knocking the breath out of him as I do.

"Gentlemen!" Edward calls, appearing from his private quarters armed and ready for action, his stormy gaze traveling over each man gathered on deck with a sort of carefree seriousness. Immediately, to my astonishment, the usually rowdy crew fell silent and to attention, proof of the respect Edward already commanded amongst his men. He strolls past Thatch, Adéwalé, Kidd and myself - sparing me a brief, knowing grin which leaves little doubt within my mind that he was aware the conversation that had occurred prior to his arrival... damn it! - heading towards the railing of the ship, pausing momentarily in his unbreakable stride to relieve on man of his rapier. With the sword clenched securely in his ship, he jumps onto the thick railing and turns to face the rest of the crew to continue with his address and I can see that his face is open, excited, for the events to come.

He appears content. Prepared.

 _Good_ , I think, allowing myself a deep sigh of relief.

"As is custom amongst our kind, we do not plunge headlong into folly on the orders of a single madman" - at this, Thatch emits a loud cough, causing Kidd and I to chuckle amongst ourselves and Edward to smile almost apologetically at the older man - "but act according to our own... _collective_ madness!"

The crew laughs at the 'inspirational' words, nodding their heads in agreement with their captain and falling once again silent the moment Edward commands attention once again.

"The object of our attention is a square-rigged Galleon, and we want her for the advantage she'll bring Nassau. So I'll put it to the vote..."

"Do you normally put decisions to a vote?" I ask Kidd at a whisper, knowing that he will have an immediate reply.

He does not disappoint. "Only when the captain feels that the crew may mutiny without the choice," Kidd replies, his breath tickling my ear and the back of my neck as he does so, "normally, a captain will make his own decisions... but a good captain knows to make choices based on the opinions of his crew."

"Oh."

"All those in favour," Edward was saying to the crew, raising his sword in a position similar to that of a salute, the soft breeze ruffling his clothes and his hair as he perches atop the crew - a vantage point I now realise will show each and every crew members expression upon making a decision. "... of storming this cove and taking this ship, stomp and shout 'Aye!'"

Just as predicted, the entire crew does as the captain suggested, a resounding 'Aye' of agreement cried out amongst the gathered crowd.

"Those who oppose..." Edward continues, a smirk upon his lips, "whimper 'nay.'"

Silence.

No one wants to be the coward.

Seeing that the decision has been made, Edward tosses the blade back at the original owner and jumps down from his perch, allowing a satisfied smile as he strolls up towards the others and myself.

Nodding in satisfaction, Thatch claps Edwards' shoulder before strolling away with Kidd at his heels, discussing in a low undertone how the captured Galleon was to be transported to Nassau and it's eventual resting place in or around the bay.

"I'll prepare the crew then?" Adéwalé asks and at Edwards' nod, sets off to do just that.

"Well," I say after a brief pause which is without a doubt extremely awkward, "good luck."

"I don't need luck," Edward scoffs.

"Just take what you get, Kenway."

"Thanks," he replies, capturing a loose strand of my red hair - a new, constantly reoccuring habit of his - as it flutters in the delicate breeze, "you remember what to do?"

"Yes."

"Good... then I'll see you when-"

"I see you," I finish with a smile of which Edward immediately returns.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, fingers gently grazing my cheekbone as he does, Edward steps away from me... and promptly throws himself off the deck of the Jackdaw, into the calm, blue-green sea that anxiously awaits him, plunging forwards towards the pristine beach ready for the next phase.

"Be safe," I murmur to the wind, as his blue-grey and blonde form disappears up the side of the ruins and into the mouth of the unknown jungle of the Great Iguana.


	12. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

 _"'December twenty-third, twenty-twelve._

 _Sample Recovery Unit Team-Lead Fisher Case, reporting on Subject Seventeen…_

 _Desmond Miles._

 _The Subject was deceased and unattended._

 _Time of death was placed around zero hundred hours and seven minutes, with conditions favourable for DNA sample recovery._

 _We had some initial concerns about interference in the vault but given the skill and talent of this team, we were able to capture useful data._

 _I personally retrieved the Subject's backpack and extracted a number of objects of interest, to undergo detailed analysis… There was, to note, a torn notebook with writing barely distinguishable to the eye, forensics will be able to interpret the writing and assess it's usefulness… a cracked mobile phone with no dial tone nor power, our experienced hackers should be able to easily access the information stored on the phones memory… and finally, a torn photograph - the Subject is pictured with another male and two females in a location that we were able to determine as this very vault. We have been unable so far to locate the remaining three individuals in the photograph for information regarding the Subject. Further inquires into the individuals will made at a later date._

 _Continuing... the Subject displayed burns to the right hand, severe enough to fuse the bones, indicating some kind of spontaneous, intense burn trauma… honestly, we have never seen nothing like it before._

 _Head, neck and torso remained in good condition._

 _I hand-selected recovery agents to retrieve fluid samples – blood and saliva._

 _We then commenced material extraction, and were able to preserve several exemplary samples…_

"No… no…! Don't _touch him_!" Finally, I could voice my outrage.

 _Data analysis and sequencing is already under way, and I'm told, proceeding with exceptional ease…_

 _"_ Please… please don't… leave him alone! _Desmond!_ " So... why didn't they answer? Why didn't they react?

 _Thanks to the cloud database –_ "Stop! Stop talking!" – _and the work of Abstergo –_ " _STOP_!" – _Sample Recovery Unit 3, the legacy of Subject Seventeen will continue uninhibited as Sample Sevent-'"_

"His name is _Desmond!_ " I scream. Yet, my voice merely ricochets off the never-ending nothingness that stretches out in a black abyss, the man's monotone, and computerised voice vibrating within my brain. "His name is Desmond," I repeat, my voice trembling, on the cusp of becoming a sob.

No response.

Why no answer?

Why won't they answer?

They're right there in front of me.

"Desmond," I call out, reaching for his distorted image, fuzzy like a camera facing major interference whilst recording.

"Please… _please_ don't leave me…"

And, as I expect, no one replies. And then... the world seems to dissolve into static and my body fragments, drifting away on a non-existent wind.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Tess… Tess… "

"Ngh," I bury my face into my elbow, attempting to escape the little voice whispering my name repeatedly into my ear. Annoyingly, the voice persists, taking on a coaxing tone despite my obvious reluctance to open my eyes.

"Tess wake up, you can't fall asleep on the ground no matter how tired you are."

"Shut it… too early…" I groan, rolling onto my side as I do. The scent of fresh dirt and the unmistakable aroma of the sea and… was that the scent of gunpowder? And… musk? A hint of rum? The enthralling fragrance of saltwater was the most mistakable of all the scents that invaded my nostrils, making my head swim with… desire? Impossible. I must still be dreaming about Desmond.

Desmond didn't smell of seawater however… he smelt of summer and warm chestnuts and the enthralling odour of his spicy cologne bought for him and Shaun for their birthdays – celebrated late of course.

"Who…?"

"Tess," Edward waves his hand in front of my blurry gaze, clicking his thumb and forefinger to get my frayed attention, "wake up, we need to get moving and I'm pretty sure that sleeping on the ground is hardly as comfortable as you make it out to be."

"Ed… ward?" I mumble, rubbing my eyes as I slowly sit up, blinking at the sudden sunlight that attacks my senses, "what… what are you-"

"Snap out of it Tess," he laughs, ruffling my hair which probably resembled a bush with all the leaves and twigs and dirt that was clumped into the usually silky mass.

Pushing his hand away, I arrange my features into a half-hearted glare and repeat a sentence I was so used to reiterating it was almost second nature. "My name," I tell him, unable to prevent the smile from breaking out upon my face, "is Tessa, Kenway and you need to stop forgetting it."

"Good to see you're back to normal," he offers me a hand and helps me to my feet, his eyebrows knitted together in unease, "are you okay? It didn't look like a pleasant dream."

 _It was more of a nightmare,_ I silently agreed but gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It might be something to do with the fact that I was sleeping on the floor," I tease and then frown as I consider what I just admitted to, "by the way, how the Hell did I end up curled on the jungle floor? I think I feel asleep on the Jackdaw."

"Kidd brought you down from the ship," Edward explains, releasing my hand in favour of throwing a muscled arm around my slender shoulders, "nothing woke you, not even when Thatch fired the Galleons cannons – and I mean all of the cannons – before setting off for Nassau."

"He left already?"

"Took off this morning with the Galleon in tow… told Kidd and I that we should find some good use for this Cove now that de Casse is dead."

"de Casse is dead?"

I shouldn't be surprised that that had been the outcome and to be honest, it wasn't the fact that de Casse was dead that shocked me – the bastard deserved what he got – it was more the fact that I hadn't been aware… I must have been out cold.

"Does that bo-"

"No, it doesn't bother me," I interrupt, kicking at the leaf-covered ground. We walk along the length of the beach, my eyes absorbing the new sites and sounds that the Iguana had to offer, my hand gently tracing along the rotting wood of the old plantation storehouses which in turn spurs forth my next enquiry. "So," I begin, looking up at the pirate and brushing my fringe out of my eyes – I really should think about cutting it – so to see his face, "what's the plan? What are we going to do with an abandoned plantation?"

"I thought we could keep a fleet," he explained, his expression lighting up at the idea, "give the place a fix up, you know… a tavern, a consignment store, a brothel-"

"Cause every town is in desperate need of a brothel," came my sarcastic reply.

"It'd be decent place to call home," he continues, ignoring my cynicism. "I might even try to convince my-" he suddenly stops, opening and closing his mouth as he struggles to come up with an end to his sentence.

"Your?"

"Nothing."

"Okay," I answer, a hint of uncertainly colouring my remark, desperate to find yet another topic to discuss once the conversation dies out. "Uh… so… where's Kidd? Did he head back with Thatch?"

"Desperate to get rid of me," the very man in question calls, lounging against a discarded crate on the pier, waving his hand in greeting as Edward and I make our way towards him, back facing the iridescent sea. "Or," he laughs as I run over to receive the hug he offers, "did you miss me?"

"Both," I giggle, slapping his chest playfully, "always both."

"Kidd…" Edward growls from behind my petite form.

"Is hugging illegal Kenway?"

"Guys," I sigh, rubbing my forehead as I feel the beginnings of a headache commencing to rear their head, "what the Hell is going on here?"

"Nothing," Edward hastily assures me.

"Nothing," Kidd answers at the exact same time, his storm-grey eyes looking out at the horizon, looking out at anything as long as it wasn't Edward or me.

"I don't understand men," I mutter, pushing past them with the single purpose of boarding the Jackdaw, maybe curling up in a corner or in one of the crew's bunks so I could continue my nap – hopefully without the terrifying nightmares about Desmond. "Never have, never will… you're all so… _confusing_."

"Is she having a nervous breakdown?" Kidd asked.

"I… I'm not sure," Edward confessed.

"Oh for God sakes," I complain, turning on my heel and glaring at the mischievous pair, "I'm going to go have a nap, the two of you can continue doing whatever the Hell it was that you had planned."

"Well then, I'll say my goodbyes," Kidd answers, nodding over at a ship pulling into the cove as swiftly and as silently as the rising sun, emitting strong, pulsating rays of light as the day reached its midpoint, "my ride is here."

"Leaving already?"

"I reckon this cove suits you better, Kenway," Kidd chuckles, patting his friends shoulder as he moves past his lean body, strolling towards me and the incoming ship, "better than that costume does."

"Don't tell him that," I chuckle, rolling my eyes and dodging Kidd's hand as he attempts to ruffle my unkempt hair, "you're going to wound his ego."

"Come now Kidd," Edward interjects, making his way towards the two of us, his expression light-hearted and playful, "we're pirates. We take as we please and become whom we like. Self-made men!"

"Is that what it's called?" I mumble, squealing when Edward grabs me around the waist and tickles me mercilessly for my sarcastic indiscretion.

"That look ain't you," Kidd informs the other pirate, shouting to be heard over my cries for mercy, "it's not who you are."

"Who am I then?" Edward questions, setting me down on my own two feet after I nearly elbow him the eye, rubbing his cheek where my elbow had connected instead.

"Hard to tell some days," he admits with a roll of his stormy eyes, "all I know, and I'm sure Tessa here can agree, is that you like dangerous prizes."

"Ain't that the truth," I grumble, shooting Edward an impish smile of my own making.

"Like the Observatory?" Edward turns to me and gives my corseted back a nudge in the direction of our ship, looking over his shoulder to analyse Kidd's expression at the mention of the fantastical prize.

As far as I can tell, James Kidd does not flinch at the casual discussion of the otherwise confirmed myth. Instead, he watches his ship pull swiftly up to the pier and seems to ignore Edward's callous remark. Maybe he knows nothing – but I now know that nobody knows nothing if they're a pirate. Perhaps Kidd was after the treasure for himself and didn't want to let Edward and myself in on the prize. I was more inclined to consider the possibility that Kidd was simply reluctant to discuss a possible prize that may or may not exist.

 _Pirates like to chase treasure proven to be fact,_ I conclude, dancing out of Edward's grip only to find myself trapped against his chest a moment later, his strong arms wrapped around my torso, pinning my arms to my chest. _They'd rather hunt what they know than go after what they don't… curious… not as wild as I thought… hmmmmm, this is rather ni – STOP right there!_

"Edward," I whisper, struggling in the steel grip that was his hold, "can you, uh, let me go now?"

"I think you know more about that than you let on in Nassau," he continues questioning Kidd, opting to ignore my frantic struggle and converse with Kidd.

 _Maybe he's doing just to piss me off… who am I kidding, this is_ Edward _you're talking about, of course he's doing it to piss you off._

"You noticed, did ya?"

"Wait… you have information regarding the observatory?"

"That's right, Princess," Kidd confirms, giving me a devilish smile and quick wave as he makes to board his ship. "Kenway," he calls over his shoulder as his crew raise the plank and already begin their preparations to depart the Great Iguana's crystal, silent cove, "meet me at twenty degrees, three minutes latitude just off the coast of Yucatan. I'll have something to show you – the both of you – in a few weeks time."

"See you then," Edward replies, raising one hand in farewell as Kidd's small ship rapidly sets sail for whatever destination it had in mind… maybe he was heading to the place he just revealed.

"Yucatan?" I ask.

"I know the place," Edward reassures me, finally releasing me from his warm encirclement and I find myself missing the natural warmth his body had produced and the feeling of safety his embrace had held.

"Oh, good," I sigh, placing my hands on my hips and leaning my weight to one side as we stare at one other, "no wild goose chase."

"This 'goose chase' paid off."

"True," I reluctantly concede, biting my lip as I do. "So... I assume that since you said 'see you then' that you're going to take Kidd's offer?"

"Of course. If he has information about the Observatory, then I want it, no matter how little that detail may be."

"You're really set on this," I note, studying his face with my large, sea-green eyes, "I can't decide whether to call it a passion or an obsession."

"How about you call it as you see it?" Edward offers with a careful smirk, his mesmerising eyes glinting with subdued mischief.

"Too difficult... are we going to get going then? Or do you want to stay and scope out the place?"

"We'll head out," Edward informs me, looping his arm around my waist and tugging me towards the marooned Jackdaw, "there's nothing to see on this island that I haven't already seen... did I tell you that de Casse has a pretty nice looking mansion up on that hill?"

"No you didn't."

"Might fix it up... it's going to take a couple of reales to get it in working condition though."

"So, is that what you're going to use the money you'll get from selling off the Observatory? That is, if it exists," I add on as an afterthought.

"It does exist," Edward scoffs, elbowing my side playful as he does and then giving me what could only be classified as an 'innocent, puppy-dog' stare when I glare at him for the unforgivable action. "Maybe I will but I want to save the gold I get from that sale for as long as I can. The point I was trying to make before you rudely interrupted me-"

"I didn't interrupt-"

Edward halts my speech by pressing a finger to my lips, his eyes sparkling with mirth, "shhhhhh, little love, shhhhhh."

Rolling my eyes, I snap my mouth shut and raise my eyebrows, folding my arms over my chest as I wait for him to continue.

"This place will make a good home," he taps the hull of his ship and grins up at the masts that stretch towards the endless blue sky, "I can tie the Jackdaw up nice and safe here in the cove, get rum flowing endless at the tavern-"

"Don't forget hundreds of beautiful and very willing women ready to wait on you're every beck and call."

"Oh," Edward smirks, reaching around my body in a way that sees me trapped against the rocking bulk of the ship, his strong arms like steel bars caging me. Feeling my face burn with our proximity and feeling as if my stomach held a million butterflies waiting to be set free, I tried to avoid looking him directly in the eye as he leaned close and breathed into my ear, "jealous?"

"Hardly," I whisper, rather breathlessly though.

"No?"

"No."

"Why won't you look at me then?"

"Because you're squishing me against the ship and your chest," I feebly retort, placing a hand on his chest as if to push him back. However, the moment I touch him I know that it was a mistake; my hand tingles from the contact - as it had been whenever we seemed to touch - and my heart thuds wildly in my chest. I try to swallow, to come up with another argument but the words die in the back of my throat when my eyes meet his intense gaze.

"I... I, um," I mumble, stumbling over the simplest of words, unable to articulate what I wanted.

 _What do I want?_

"Yes, Tess?"

"Tessa," I remind him weakly, bracing the cold wood of the Jackdaw with one hand, my other - the one on his chest - slide down the length of his torso, feeling the ridges of his muscles hidden beneath the thick blue and grey-white material before sliding back up to rest on his shoulder.

"Tessa," he breathes in answer, bumping his forehead against mine, "can I help you? You look a little... _flustered_."

"Yeah," I whisper in agreement, the word slipping out before I can stop it.

 _What the HELL are you doing?!_

 _I honestly don't know,_ I thought in reply before my mind goes blissfully blank the moment Edward touches my cheek, then trails his calloused fingers down the side of my face to my exposed throat, his fingers curling around the leather cord and pearl.

"Can you believe it's been a year since I found you passed out on the beaches of Cape Bonavista? You've changed a lot since then..."

"A year?!" I gasp, interrupting Edward the moment the reality of his statement hits me. Honestly, the guy may as well have slapped me hard across my face; the metaphorical beating was even more painful, in my personal opinion, than the physical action.

 _I must have heard him incorrectly... yeah, that's it, must be. My head's all fuzzy from all this... flirting? Yes, yes, he can't have said a YEAR!_

"Yeah... it's 1716, Tess..." he studies my expression, "you okay? You look as if you've just seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," I tell him, blinking rapidly to clear my thoughts, "fine..."

"You sure?" he questions, releasing me from his tempting hold.

"Yes... yes, I'm sure." Touching my forehead, I once again fold my arms over my torso and hug myself tightly, trying to keep the panic reeled in - I didn't want to lose what little progress I had made. Clearly my throat, I look at Edward and then incline my head expectantly in the direction of our ship, "are we going to set sail or what?"

"Or what."

"Ha-ha," I say, rolling my eyes at his sarcastic reply, giggling at his failed attempt to keep a straight face, "let's get going Kenway, we need to catch up to Kidd if we wanna get that information he promised. He did say he'd tell the _both_ of us, so... I don't about you, but I'm ready to high-tail it out of here."

With us in complete agreement, we quickly board the ship and prepare the boat for travel; Edward barking out orders to each crew member, murmuring the plan to Adéwalé whilst I helped the crew out the best I could, clearing up empty and discarded bottles, tying up loose ends, helping to unfurl the sail upon Edwards cry for need of it. It felt, as I did each of my chores, as if I was in a dream - or some sort of twisted nightmare. What Edward told me swirled around and around in my head, repeating in his deep, rough voice the same date over and over.

It was almost like being back at square one.

When had I stopped trying to work out my method of escape? When did I become _comfortable_ living the life Kidd, Thatch, Adéwalé and Kenway lived? When did it all become as normal and as easy as breathing?

When had this become my life?

"Tessa!"

"Uh, yeah?" I call back, looking over my shoulder from where I stand hunched over a heavy-duty broadside cannon, securing the weapon as well as I could to the side of the ship, to where Edward stands handling the helm, annoyed when my heart flutters when I meet his gaze.

"Come here."

Handing the knot-tying to another crew member, I make my way to the upper deck as fast as I can, knowing from Edward's tone of voice that it was important. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

"Gods Edward, from the way you sounded this conversation seemed to be a life-or-death situation."

"I... I just wanted make sure you're-"

"Okay," I cut in, "yeah, yeah, I told you already... I'm fine."

"With what happened down on the pier..."

"Let's forget it happened," I tell him, knowing that was the best option for the both us - particularly since I knew Edward was possibly the biggest flirt I knew and also because I was still-

"Yeah," Edward agrees, turning his attention back to the sprawling sea.

"Can I sail?"

"You want to pilot my ship?"

"Well... can I?" I repeat, offering a friendly smile and desperately hoping that we can put the scene at the Cove behind us. Plus, learning to steer a massive ship might come in handy one day - almost as handy as Edward agreeing to teach me how to fight - and it would most likely be a marvellous distraction from the pounding headache brought on by Edward's revelation.

"Sure."

With a pleased grin, I manoeuvre myself around Edward in order to position myself at the Helm, my tiny fingers gripping the in comparison massive wheel as tightly as I could, deeply afraid that I could loose control.

"You've got to loosen up," Edward instructs me, once more looping his arms around my body in order to place his firm hands atop my dainty ones, "just let you're instincts guide you."

 _A lot harder than driving a car,_ I remark thoughtfully as the ship tugs my arms to the right, the weight of the wheel preventing me from being able to keep a firm grip.

"Relax," Edward whispers in my ear, his warm breath tickling the back of my neck as he does, the action resuming the tingling sensation across my body and encouraging the frantic rhythm of my pounding heart.

 _I thought we were putting this behind us,_ I think but subconsciously find myself leaning into his chest, relishing the feeling of his skin against mine, his firm chest supporting my weight with an ease not many could manage. _Oh... what's the harm?_ I eventually decide, content to let the feeling of peace and warmth continue, particularly since I could barely manage to steer his ship without Edward's immediate help. There was no harm in the friendly gesture, even if my body trembled with the proximity. It wasn't like Edward considered me anything more than a friend - maybe a friend with benefits - but I wasn't even going to go there.

Yet, in the back of my mind, a small part of me was screaming... screaming for something I had long since lost.

A single name.

 _Desmond._

* * *

 **A/N: putting my authors note at the end of the chapter... a first for me. I hope you all read this because it is my sincere thanks for keeping up :) I'm glad that you've all enjoyed reading up to this point and I can tell you that I enjoy writing each chapter knowing that each one I post you'll read ^_^ Anyways... I seriously enjoyed this chapter (as you can probably guess... aren't Edward and Tess cute?) and I can't wait to write the next one... maybe I'll have Edward teach Tessa finally how to fight... I mean, she does have some skill in it (she did do fencing for a bit, which is harder than it can look, I would know since I do it) but she's very uncomfortable with the idea of hurting another to save her life. I mean, she never directly judged Desmond - which she eventually admits to herself - for doing just that to survive but she openly does to Edward and I think, after Edward teaches her how to shoot and load a pistol, that she kind of gets why...**

 **Wow, I wrote a lot... soz guys...**

 **Anyways, see you next update ;)**

 **\- AshTree13 xoxo**


	13. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello everyone, welcome to the next instalment of Down The Rabbit Hole... now, I must apologise for my rather late upload... I just finished my trials (which is an obvious cause for celebration) but unfortunately I had some matters to attend to which prevented me from completing this chapter and uploading it Friday night... but as I like to say, better late than never, right?**

 **I will admit that writing this chapter was a little harder than I thought but once I got it out (and to a standard I approved of) I must say that I quite enjoyed the way it turned out and upon saying that, I hope you do too :)**

 **Enjoy! ^_^**

 **\- AshTree13 xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 11:**

Temptation is a different kind of torture.

It's a bitch.

Nestled in the safety of Edward's arms, I struggle to keep my breathing steady as my erratic heartbeat thumps heavily within my chest. Leaning the majority of my weight against his chest, I raise my arms out before me, slightly bent at the elbows and position the common flintlock pistol to take aim at the horizon and the endless stretch of sea before me.

"You need to keep your grip steady," Edward murmurs into my ear, reaching around my body in order to adjust my failing hold on the firearm. His toughened yet gentle fingers curling around my own, lingering for but a moment after which he pulls away and realigns himself into his original, distracting position just behind me.

"I'm trying," I grunt, chewing the inside of my cheek – a nasty habit I've never really been able to shake, one that only comes out when I'm focused on a specific task at hand – as a rush of emotions hits me, causing my stomach to curl up in knots.

Fuck emotions.

"Try harder."

"Just because you've had years of practice, jackass, doesn't mean that everyone can load and fire a pistol as easy as you," I snap back rather peevishly, although the anger is directed at myself rather than at him.

I knew that from where he was standing, he could examine my entire profile at his leisure and although it was necessary from him to do so – considering the fact that I was handling a potentially dangerous weapon, without any real experience – I could tell that every now and then, from the way my body tingled each time I retook my stance, that he was taking the chance to study my appearance and figure.

It was frustrating.

Is he looking at me or is he just waiting to see me screw up?

Does he think that I'm beautiful or does he think me hideous?

Does he like my general appearance or does it turn him away?

Questions like these were something that I used to concern myself with when I was a girl fresh out of high school already in the middle of tackling a degree in computer science yet intelligent enough to hack into a variety of high security mainframes - age, after all, doesn't define intelligence. Even when Lucy Stillman recruited Shaun, Rebecca and myself for the specific mission of programing the animus in order to transform Desmond from a klutz of a bartender into the ultimate assassin, there had been moments when I could indulge in those selfish, conceited questions. Moments when we were simply young adults who went out on Friday and Saturday nights to bars and drank ourselves into a stupor, playing ridiculous games like 'truth or dare' or 'never have I ever' with endless rounds of shots.

In those snapshots of spare time, we weren't a group of fledging assassins attempting to keep balance in a disordered world, trying to stop those who wished the world harm from enacting their plans; we weren't trying to survive in a world that no longer made much sense except when you looked at it in the perspective of good vs. evil.

They were the moments when we were free, when we could be just Desmond, Shaun, Rebecca, Lucy and Tessa.

Of course, once Desmond's father came into the mix, the fun and games mostly ended, but we could still have our fun and I could still sit there and grapple, each time _he_ would look my way, with those conceited questions.

Though, since arriving in the 18th century, I found myself far less concerned with my general appearance, especially considering that it was a grade A standard in comparison with basically everyone I had come to meet. Those shallow minded concerns were no longer at the forefront of my mind; silly nonsense like how I should wear my hair, if the colour of that dress really suited my skin tone, weren't as pressing as they had once been when I was a 19 year old girl, trying to impress the boy of her dreams.

Yet, somehow Edwards' analysing, curious gaze was enough to make me reconsider that opinion.

 _Fuck this shit, why should you care?_ I berate myself, pressing down on the trigger and firing at the empty space looming before me, jumping as the flintlock goes off with a loud _bang_.

Why did I care?

I shouldn't care.

I do care.

Fuck.

"Try not to jump when you fire," came Edward's laughing observation, jolting me out of my internal struggle and daydreams about my previous life. Spinning around quickly on my heel to face him, I watch with a mixture of contempt and amazement as his eyes twinkle with barely concealed mirth. At the same time, I try to keep my face blank from the shock that hits me hard as I come to the realisation that, in my reminiscing, I had forgotten that the very source of all my problems stood right behind me, watching my every move.

 _How could I forget he was standing right there?_

"You okay?"

"Yeah," I answer stoutly, shaking my head to clear my thoughts, "just a little…"

"Distracted?" he offers up, taking the flintlock out of my hands and returning it to it's rightful place; in Edward's second holster located on his hip.

"Yeah," I repeat, chewing once more at the inside of my cheek.

"You're always distracted, Tess."

"No I'm - _urgh_! - it's Tessa," I finally snap, unwilling to admit that he was more or less right - definitely more, only to see the pirate burst into loud guffaws at my half-hearted and no doubt flustered outburst. Throwing my arms in the air and rolling my eyes, I then dodge his friendly attempt to ruffle my hair, reluctant to have him lay a hand on me as I knew that, no matter how light the touch, it would bring on a whole new wave of uncomfortable, tingling sensations.

"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?" he inquires, marching up the stairs to the Upper Deck to relieve Adéwalé from his position at the helm, upon realising that I was not in the mood to play games. Looking back at me, he allows his familiar devilish smirk to light his features which instantly puts me on edge. "Better turn that frown upside down or you're going to age fifty years in fifty seconds," he continues, despite the glare I had aimed his way.

"Did you just imply that I have frown lines?" I ask in complete disbelief.

"No... I was suggesting that you're forming them."

"Asshole," I mutter, flipping him the finger to the amusement of both the man in question and his quartermaster.

"How did learning to fire a flintlock turn into this?" Adéwalé asks.

"You tell me, I was only trying to help," Edward replies innocently, thereby implying that it was my fault.

Which it probably was but there was no way in Hell that I was going to openly admit that.

"Screw you," I yell and when both men give me benignant, amused grins in reply, it takes everything in me not to throw something at the frustrating pair, "the both of you! just... _ugh!"_

 _"_ _Boys!_ " I mutter to myself, as if by summarising this situation with that one word explained everything.

"Captain!"

"What is it?" Edward calls back to the distressed crew member, instantly slipping back into the rigid role of a pirate captain in charge of the safety of his crew and the success of his ship, losing the wry amusement that was previously in his attractive grey-blue eyes. Those very eyes narrow as he takes in the dishevelled - well, more dishevelled than normal - appearance of the young sailor whose hazel eyes are alight with terror and urgency. "Spit it out," Edward growls, frustrated by the lack of response from his lackey, grabbing the front of the man's worn shirt, "we don't have all day, mate."

"Sir, Briggs in the lookout order me to inform you of our fast approach to a Spanish occupied fort," the man hastily explains, shrinking away from his captain as Edwards' eyes widen in horror at the news, as if the man expected to be beaten for relaying the news.

"Heavily armed?"

"Yes... cannons and everything," the crewman reports back grimly, sweat trickling down the side of his face.

"Shit," Adéwalé curses, grabbing the boys shoulder and throwing him down the stairs to the Gun-deck, barking out orders as he does, "ready the cannons, alert the crew! Don't just stand here and whimper like an abandoned puppy... are you a man or not?!"

"Y-y-yes, quartermaster," the man squeaks, raising his arm in a partial salute before scurrying off at Adéwalé's returning glare, yelling at the rest of the crew the orders of which were assigned to him by the larger and somewhat intimidating man.

"A fort?" I enquire, squealing in surpise when Edward grabs my arm and essentially tosses my body to Adéwalé, his own expression tight and grim as he studies my now disorganised appearance and slightly panicked expression.

"A heavily armed garrison manned by a large selection of either the British or Spanish navy," Edward quickly explains, taking the wheel of the Jackdaw. His handsome face twists in pain, as if the mere thought of going up against such a monstrosity was a physical blow that he had to endure, "in other words, we're about to stroll right into Hell."

" _What?!"_

 _"_ Adéwalé, I need to you take Tessa into my quarters-"

"No," I cut in, struggling in Adéwalés' iron grip, trying to bring my heel down on his feet when the jerky, hurried movements didn't work, but it's obvious that the pirate noted my motives since he easily sidesteps the attempt. "I won't let you tuck me away, nice and safe, from the danger!"

"Tessa," Edward groans, shooting me a brief glare since the matter at hand forces him to commit his attention elsewhere, "please do not argue and go with Adé-"

" _No_ ," I scream, kicking my legs and thrashing my arms, "I'm not going to just sit aside while you attempt to stroll straight into the depths of Hell!"

"Tess, please, just do it," Edward pleads, grabbing my chin with his one free hand, forcing me to look into his eyes which were clouded by... by...

"I can _help_ ," I reply, begging almost.

Edward sighs.

"Adéwalé."

Although Edward does not give a specific command, Adéwalé acts according to his captains wishes. Despite my frequent and outraged protests, the much stronger man adeptly lifts me into the air and promptly throws my feeble body over his shoulder, the violent movement knocking the air out of me when my chest and stomach hit his body with a hard, definite _thump._ Nodding at the captain in reassurance, he begins to make his way down the stairs, barely flinching as I shriek shrilly into his ear and pound his back with clenched fists, kicking out at his chest with my leather-clad feet.

"Put me, Adéwalé! P _ut. Me. DOWN!_ "

"Please, fair lady," he pleads upon opening the door to the Captain's Quarters, "can't you just make my job easier?"

"No! I won't stay in here!" I yell the moment Adéwalé has tossed me - and I mean literally _tossed -_ my body into the crimson coloured room, struggling to get to my feet from my crumpled position on the floor, my head pounding with a vicious headache as I do which prevents me from making any coordinated movement.

"The Captain wants to keep you safe."

"The Captain wants to keep out of the way!"

 _How can he still not want me to get involved?_ I think, the thought irritatingly causing my eyes to burn with the desire to cry.

Adéwalé frowns, shaking his head as if there was something wrong with my observation. "No, Tessa," he says and the use of my name - because I can't think of a time prior to this moment in which Adéwalé had actually used my name - stops me in my tracks... well, it silences my avid protests but not my limbs from moving on their own, stubbornly propelling my body towards the doorway.

"No?"

"He wants you safe."

"Bullshit!" I cry just as the Jackdaw fires their first round of cannon-fire.

"What the Hell is that blasted man doing?!" Adéwalé grumbles, looking over his shoulder to watch the crew prepare the next round of artillery fire, "there's no way we can survive a fight with a f - no you don't." Pushing my body back into the confines of the luxurious room, Adéwalé frowns at my crumpled form, trying to retain a sigh, "can't you just accept that there's no way I'll let you out?"

"You can't stand in that doorway forever," I retort, frustrated with the failure of my plan - and here I thought it would be easy to sneak past the muscular, dark-skinned, former slave.

"You're right," Adéwalé humbly agrees before promptly slamming the door of the cabin in my face, the unmistakable sound of a lock being turned echoing in my head, "but I can lock you in."

"You _bastard!"_ I howl, throwing myself at the study door, my fists beating out a steady rhythm, "let me out!"

"Trust Edward, fair lady," came his reply, before the sound of gunfire drowns out every sound except the frantic _thump_ of my heart.

0-0-0-0-0-0

He had expected her to pissed.

Hell, he expected her to punch him square in the jaw, just as she had all those months ago on the shores of the fateful Cape Bonavista Beach, azure-green eyes alit with a fierce determination to act, backed with a strong desire to prove herself capable of such violence.

He had at least expected her to scream obscenities at him.

He had not expected this.

"Tess," Edward starts, remaining in the safety of the doorway to his quarters, ready to bolt if she suddenly threw her tiny body at him, fists and teeth bared in fury. When it does not come, he continues, keeping his voice low and calming as to not provoke the violently beautiful woman, "we've reached the coordinates Kidd gave... Tulum."

No reply.

"Please don't be angry at me... it wasn't safe for you out on the deck."

Nothing. Again.

"Tess... talk to me."

"Why?" her voice sounded lifeless, empty. It was painful to hear.

"Because I don't want it to seem as if I'm conversing with myself," Edward patiently explains, inching slowly into the room and allowing the door to his chambers to close with a soft click, his eyes trained on the woman curled up on her side on the luxurious bed.

"Why?"

"Tessa, please don't play games with me."

"I'm not," she argues feebly, her voice muffled by the sheets of the bed in which she had twisted around her fingers to make a makeshift pillow.

"Then answer me with replies consisting of something other than 'why,'" Edward growls, sitting on the edge of the mattress, resisting the persistent urge to run his fingers throw her blood-red ringlets. Eventually he gives into the temptation, reaching out and curling his digits into the soft locks, admittedly a habit he had picked up just by being in her company - he'd never continually had the desire to play with another's hair before. Not even his wife's fiery waves had brought up the urge yet, somehow, Tess's was just a habit he could not shake. He wasn't even sure if she liked it but she didn't shake his hand off, so he took it as a positive sign.

"There was no way we could've held our own against the Chinchorro fort... not yet, the ship's not armed enough for such a feat," he continues, lying down on the cot himself, the soft mattress a soothing relief from the horror that had been his life for a brief yet somehow agonisingly long moment up on deck. "We have three injuries within the crew, damage to ship that's going to need major repairs the moment I get the chance to dock the ship somewhere safe... one man, dead. All that damage and I merely skirted around the edge of the forts border... I didn't want you to be in the middle of that shit."

"Why." It wasn't even a question; a statement of sorts.

"Because I can't - don't - want to see you get-" he broke off, unable to resist answering the small girl. No... he was being too forward and besides he shouldn't care.

She was just a responsibility, that was what he had told Kidd a couple weeks back. Was that still true?

No.

Not entirely, at least.

"I don't want to see you get hurt for something so pointless," he finishes, deciding that was the safest explanation for his actions - showing too much concern meant he cared more than he did, showing none meant that he couldn't care less for the dazzling girl. He didn't - couldn't - love her but he didn't - couldn't - hate her, he was in that awkward in-between.

Of course, he wasn't going to admit that he was leaning more towards lov - _no!_

"I should have been allowed to make that call for myself," she whispers, sitting upright on the bunk, her forest-green-yet-still-somehow-always-blue eyes floating over his lounging form, red hair falling around her face like a curtain of bloodstained water. The soft ends of her curls tickle his face as she then chooses to lean over him, straddling his middle, hands splayed across his chest, those tempting rose-red lips looming close as she bends her head towards him, concealing them both in the waterfall of blood that was her luscious hair. "You promised that you'd stop treating me as a child, that you would let me help you... you said we were in this together," she continues in a low, bordering on seductive, voice.

And even though there was nothing particularly heart-racing about those words, Edward could feel his heart speeding up, thudding against his chest as her hands tightening their grip on his worn tunic, her eyes lazily studying his (hopefully) blank expression. Damn - why...? Why did she make him feel like this? Like he was a nervous schoolboy? Shit! He was nothing of the sort - he was a cold, battle worn killer - a pirate!

"I know and I keep my word, Tess," he manages to get out steadily.

"Then why? Why did you lock me up in here as if I was some troublesome child?" she quietly demanded, loosening her grip at his answer, obviously somewhat contented by his reply.

"Because I don't want you to get hurt!" He yells, startling both her and himself.

Yet, as he says it again out loud, the image of Tessa injured, white from blood loss and effectively dying on the deck of his ship, made his heart and stomach clench painfully.

Yes, that was the truth.

That was all there was too it.

"Adéwalé said that you wanted to keep me safe," she admits after a brief respite.

"Adé told you the truth."

"I could've helped," Tessa stubbornly persists, narrowing her haunting yet unmistakably beautiful eyes.

"I know," he agrees, reaching up to cup her face, tracing the planes of her face - particularly her sharp but delicate cheekbone structure - and then her lips, trying to suppress the urge to shiver in pleasure when she kisses his fingers, closing her eyes as she does.

 _God help me_.

"Sorry, I don't mean to overreact."

"You want to be helpful," he replies, sitting up on the bed, as he does, her body wavers with the sudden movement. To steady her petite form, Edward splays his hands against her hips, focusing on that action rather than the notable tightening in his pants.

 _Shit, how am I turned on by this?_

It really didn't help that she was, in every way, dazzling - at least, she was to him. Fuck. Just... fuck.

"There are times when I need you to help me, Tess," he roughly continues, hoping that Tessa was oblivious to his growing desire, trying to focus on the apology at hand rather than his strong need to do everything that was undeniably wrong to the innocent girl before him, "but that was not one of them. Please understand that I was not tossing you aside like I have done in the past, I was simply trying to protect you."

"I'm sorry," she repeats, resting her head against his chest, looping her arms around his neck as she did.

 _Fuck_.

 _"_ Tulum," Edward murmurs, attempting to focus on the other reason for which he had come to retrieve Tessa from his private chambers. Wrapping his arms around her small body, Edward desperately prays that she cannot feel the frantic thumping of his heart with their close proximity before continuing with his earlier remark, "is heavily guarded, the beaches patrolled by men and women armed to the teeth - at least, I presume they are. Adéwalé may have been correct in assuming that Kidd may have set us up."

"Are we still going to risk it?" she inquires, glancing up at him from under thick, long and dark eyelashes, her eyes wide and innocent.

"I want to believe he's not tricking us into something we won't be able to get out of," he admits, resuming his habit of playing with her glossy hair as he does, "and what do you mean by 'we?'"

"Edward," Tessa warns, pulling away from albeit briefly, deciding that it was far more comfortably to be nestled against his chest than leaning away from him.

"I know, I know... we're in this together."

"Exactly," she agrees, nodding her head.

"You up for an adventure, Tess?"

"Yes," she answers with what could only be described as an impish grin, "let's go, straight to Hell and back... and this time, we do it together."

"Agreed," he murmurs, leaning back against the beds mattress, this time with Tessa curled in his arms, ready to face whatever lay ahead in the Mayan settlement of Tulum, confident in his abilities and, strangely enough, in the skills of the very woman who lay in his embrace.

 _"_ You're hurt," she suddenly exclaims, sitting up right so she could investigate a notable gash on his upper arm, her kind eyes widening in alarm as she takes in the sight of the minor wound.

"I'm okay, it's nothing that can't be easily taken care of," he assures her, reluctant to move from their very comfortable position on his bed.

"Are you sure?" she inquires, her long, graceful fingers pushing back the torn fabric of his shirt in order to examine the small injury, gently probing the torn flesh as she does, "I can bind it for you."

He wanted to reply, he really did. However, his blood had rushed down south - fast - and it took every effort for him to keep his head clear of the barrage of dirty thoughts circulating his brain, to keep him from doing something he knew he would regret later, no matter how much he desired to do it.

Instead, Edward leaned back and settled for a grunt as a means to reply.

Lucky Tessa took the hint otherwise he was certain he was going to fuck everything up.

Temptation was indeed a bitch.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Stupid.

I was so stupid!

What was I thinking? Agreeing to take part in an adventure that was proving to be more or less a death sentence.

"Edward!" I hiss, struggling to keep up with the agile pirate as we made our way through the maze that was the Tulum jungle, searching for the very man who led us into Hells depths, whilst at the same time attempting to avoid the men and women - assassins, I now realised - who lined the trail leading deeper and deeper into the humid vegetation, "please... wait up."

"Keep moving, Tess," he hisses in reply, briefly glancing over his shoulder to make sure that I was indeed on his tail before returning to his quick, light-stepped pace, his much heavier body making very little sound in comparison to me as he took out each assassin one by one from a variety of hiding spaces.

Something, which I freely admit, took a lot from me to not negatively respond to.

I had always been taught that assassin's = good guys whilst everyone else either = bad guy or someone you shouldn't openly trust. Watching Edward take out members of an order that I had faithfully served since I was a small child was almost unbearable to watch and made me undeniably sick to my stomach. Yet, at the same time I understood his need to eliminate those who posed a threat to us and to remove from the situation those who would otherwise get in the way of our overall goal. It was a combination of understanding and acceptance, of adjustment to this era, that allowed me to stomach Edward's actions and remain silent, dragging the unconscious bodies into the undergrowth - out of sight, out of mind.

It was only after trudging through this mess of jungle for what seemed like another hour that we located James Kidd, casually leaning against a mass of solid stone as if he were on a vacation and not surrounded by heavily armed assassins.

Edward, obviously pissed off with the young pirate, hastily made his way through the undergrowth before - after checking that the cost was clear - marching straight up his 'friend' and gripping the front of his shirt, pushing his face close to Kidd's as his temper and frustrations took hold. "What the fuck Kidd? what have you gotten us into?!"

"Easy, Kenway," Kidd replies, completely at ease, as if Edward potentially threatening his life was something he saw everyday - for all I knew, it could be. "Hello, Tessie, how's life treating you?" he asks me, spying me as I move out from under the protection of the extensive jungle.

"Now's not the time, Kidd," I rebuke, honestly fed-up with the man yet still not as angry as Edward.

"Are these Monks guarding the treasure you promised me?" Edward growls, finally releasing the front of Kidd's shirt once his anger begins to dissipate and the prospect of immediate wealth dawns upon him.

Kidd doesn't reply.

Instead he turns to the cliff behind him - which I can now see is some ornate door - and turns what appears to be an inlaid golden head, pressing it into a hidden slot of the door which allows it to spin on it's own accord, revealing the passage way the door hid from view.

"We're onto something," Edward breathes, taking a hesitant step forward, "I can feel it."

And, as it always does when things just start to go our way, the situation undeniably decides to take a turn for the worse.

"Captain Kenway?"

 _Fuck._


	14. Chapter 12

**A/N: Two things:**

 **1) I AM SO SORRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYY! :'( /0\ -_-**

 **I've been really busy lately and posting the chapter skipped my mind... in fact, one of my friend's was the one who reminded me of the fact that I hadn't posted last week's chapter. As you can imagine, my response was firstly, denial, secondly, slightly crazed laughter as I look up my fanfic to see that in fact I hadn't posted (cue mental swearing,) followed swiftly by me looking for this chapter in doc manager, to realising I hadn't _finished_ the chapter (cue more swearing, verbal this time) to me then coming home and frantically trying to get my homework done only to then be bombarded with housework... and then finally, FINALLY, posting *phew***

 **I am a terrible author... you may proceed to scold me... apologies once again.**

 **2) This chapter... ATR* &RTfT^Tftr! Let me tell you, I struggled writing this chapter and honestly I don't know why... maybe it was just getting the words out onto the page, like I knew what I wanted to say but when I typed it up it just didn't sound right, you know what I mean?**

 **But it's done and the next chapter will be up as scheduled this week - unless I get eaten by a zombie or hit by a meteor  
**

 **Enjoy my lovelies,**

 **\- AshTree13 xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 12:**

"Captain Kenway?"

Edward's fast – like, seriously, that boy can _move_. More often than not, I had been witness to his startling abilities. He could take down an opponent almost as swiftly as a snake could strike their prey; a blue-grey blur armed with lethal rapiers that gleamed silver even when layered with fresh blood, a pair of pistols that he could fire with merely the twitch of his fingers and the hidden blades that were a staple for any Assassin regardless of the mission they were sent to carry out. Fast, deadly, exotic - yet still no match for a experienced, trained Assassin.

I knew that the hooded man would been just as swift, if not swifter, than the blonde-haired pirate yet the speed at which the average-height male moved stunned me into momentarily stillness.

I watch Edward attempt to arm himself; whipping out a pistol ready to shoot, only to have the assassin grasp that very arm, twisting it round Edwards' lean back in such a way which causes Edward to drop his firearm in pain, before the man tosses Edward aside as if the usually capable and without a doubt, strong, man weighed nothing more than a few pound. Although it was not the first time I had seen Edward caught off guard - the first being in Havana with Torres's big brute of a bodyguard - the ease to which the man effectively carried out his own defensive actions startled me, particularly upon observing Edward stumbling over his usual nimble feet, struggling to regain his balance after the force of the throw.

It was then I realised that I had to do something, lest we be taken captive by men that would hardly be reasoned with. So, shaking myself out of my momentary daze, I take a step forward and finger the small, needle-like blades that I procured a few weeks ago - on a complete whim, may I add... it was driven by this primal instinct to protect and defend myself in the event that Edward would not be there to assist me - only to find myself halted by Kidd.

"Don't," he warns, grabbing my hand when he notices my digits twitch, ready to draw one of my concealed blades. His eyes widen when he notices the tiny, razor-sharp knives strapped to my wrist, nestled safely in a tiny leather pouch as if he could hardly believe that I was smart enough to hide a potential weapon. I make attempt to arm myself, managing to twist Kidd's arm as I reach for one of the silver knives, my fingers grazing the hilt of one small blade before Kidd comes to his senses through his own pain. Twisting my arm behind my back the moment he has a distinct advantage, he pulls my body to his chest, securing me one of my own knives - carefully removed from my person without my noticing during the course of the struggle - the sharp edge pressed against my throat, right at my jugular and with an arm wrapped around my torso.

"Please don't make this more difficult then it needs to be," Kidd says and in following his line of sight, I notice that Edward has stilled and is watching the pair of us with a hawklike intensity. Therefore, the plea was to the two of us; not that I could really _do_ anything now, considering that I couldn't move my arms, not even to slap the vulgar boy.

"Kidd," Edward grounds out, his hands curling into fists at his side, "you _Bastard!_ Leave her out of this-"

"I'm not going to hurt her, I would never hurt Tessie... I just want you to hear my mentor out," Kidd interrupts, tilting his head to one side as if he was a perplexed cat, studying Edward's reaction closely as he flips the blade to it's flat edge and removes it's deadly presence from my jugular and instead rests it just over my collarbone. "See? I won't hurt her but I need you to participate and not cause a scene."

I confess that I too am watching Edward's reaction, and when the pirate unfurls his fists and straightens up, no longer stunned from his momentarily lack of balance, folding his arms over his chest my heart flutters. _Edward,_ I think, touched by the knowledge that he cared about my safety, that he was willing to listen to Kidd to keep me from harm, _thank you..._

"Where is the Assassin Duncan Walpole?" the hooded man suddenly enquires, obviously unamused by the situation at hand and I don't blame him. Edward and I are trespassing, we were a potential threat - screw that, we _are_ a threat being that both of us are armed with some sort of weapon and we initiated the attack on our captors. It was in defence but that didn't excuse the fact that we had drawn weapons in the vicinity of Assassins...

 _Which was incredibly stupid,_ I realise upon looking back at our actions, _I should know better than that. Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

"Dead and buried," spat Edward in response, "after he tried to kill me."

Kidd, perhaps realising that this was going to take longer then he originally thought, looks down at me struggling against his body with a wry but amused smile. "Didn't know you knew how to fight, Tessie," he teases, steering the conversation in another direction, waving my silver knife in front of my eyes, curling the blade expertly in his hands - which suggested that he knew how to handle the minute daggers, probably with an ease that I have never possessed. "I mean," he continues when I don't answer, obviously enjoying the one way discussion, "you're just so small and dainty... fighting isn't something I would associate you with."

"Yeah, well... it's not like you really knew me before," I snarl, resuming the struggle to detach myself from his constructing grasp.

"And Edward does?" Kidd whispers, his warm breath tickling the shell of my ear, his hold tightening, "does he know you? Do you know him?"

"I-"

"We are not sorry to see him gone," the hooded man continues, once more drawing our attention, effectively ending the short exchange, "but it was you who carried out his final betrayal. Why?"

 _Final betrayal? What an odd choice of words..._

"I'm sorry," I apologise, directing my query to the man squaring off against Edward; it was obvious that he was the one running the show and thus the only one who would probably be able to answer my question. Kidd would go about it in a round-about way and Edward would attempt to steer the conversation in another direction, evading my enquiry as he often did.

"For what?"

"For not comprehending," I specify, "what do you mean by 'final betrayal?'"

"You don't know what he did?" Kidd asks, turning my face towards his so I can watch a startled expression make its way across his somewhat handsome face.

 _And my confusion continues to grow._

"Duh, dimwit," I drawl, resuming my struggle, "why else would ask?"

"I thought-" James begins, furrowing his brow.

"James," the Assassin warns, face expressionless as he briefly turns his attention to the younger male.

"Shut up, Kidd," Edward says at the same time, his face flushing red with anger, shooting metaphorical daggers at the man he once called a comrade.

"Can someone just tell me what the fuck is going on?" I yell, startling all three of the perplexing and dangerous men before me.

"Why?" the Assassin reiterates, either bored or fed up - hard to tell, he had such a blank expression on his face - with the course the conversation had taken, steering it back into focus.

"Money was my only aim," Edward replies, tilting his head and curling his lips into that familiar devil-may-care smirk.

 _What is happening right now?_ I think, watching the first real expression cross the Assassin's face - fury.

"Should I find comfort in that?" the man bellows, "you murdered our brothers and sisters in Havana!"

It felt as if the man had just dunked a bucket of ice-cold water over my head.

 _You murdered our brothers and sisters in Havana!_ It's one of those statements that will remain forever imprinted upon your mind. In fact, the sentence swirls around and around in my mind, causing my head to pound as I try to unscramble the uncomplicated words from the complicated mess that my brain had become. _Murdered..._ Edward had killed before, but it was always in defence - from the moment I had met him, I had realised that fact; Edward was simply trying to survive and unfortunately his survival meant that he must become judge, jury and executioner for a number of people.

It had always bothered me; I wasn't a person who condoned bloody actions such as murder, despite the fact that as an Assassin, it was a major factor of my life. I was a person who firmly stuck to the belief that violence was never the right path to take but was a necessary step towards reaching ones goal and ultimately returning to the 'correct' pathway. It was why I was so judgemental of Edward's actions from the very beginning but as time had worn on, it became less a concern and more an understanding - this was how he lived, this was how _most_ pirates lived and I had no doubt it was how Kidd and the rest of the assassin's lived too.

So then why? Why did I feel so cold hearing those chilling words?

"I don't understand," I say and I have to take a momentary break when I realise that my voice comes out as a croak, rather than the steady tonality I wanted to achieve. "I don't understand," I repeat, shaking my head as if to clear the horrifying accusation from the very depths of my consciousness, "what you're implying is that Edward-"

"Killed in cold blood," Kidd finishes, "he's saying exactly that, Tessie. No more, no less."

"No," I reply, a breathless chuckle escaping from between my rosy lips, "no, that's impossible. Edward wouldn't just - ha - he wouldn't just _kill_ someone for no reason."

"We're pirates, Theresa," Kidd reminds me, the words turning my body numb with doubt and horror, "we take what we like, when we like... we kill when we want to kill, for survival... for gain..."

"No."

"Tess." That was Edward.

"No," I recapitulate, trying to remove the tremor from my voice, shaking my head in disbelief, still skeptical - or maybe stubborn is the correct term from my current attitude - of what Kidd and the Assassin had just revealed to me.

"Tess, stop."

"It's not true," I whisper, desperate now that Edward's voice has joined the fray.

"Tess-"

"Tell me it's not true," I interrupt, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall down my cheeks, my heart beating wildly - and not in a good way - as my gaze finds Edward, desperately trying to read his grey-blue eyes in the hope of finding answers, "tell me it's not true... tell _them_ it's not true! Tell me that Kidd is _lying!_ That _he is lying!"_

"I can't, Tessa."

"Lies."

"Tess." It was then that I noticed Edwards' refusal to look the three of us in the eye and it hit me... Oh God, the Assassin was telling the truth, _Kidd_ was telling the truth. Edward had - Edward had k - Edward had kill - Edward had... _killed_ members of the Assassin's Order back in Havana. Oh God, oh God... The only consolation, and it really couldn't even be described as that, was the fact that Edward wore his guilt as clear as day on his handsome face, his eyes solemn and sorrowful as if he had realised the cost of his actions too little too late. Those familiar eyes were focused on me, wide and desperate, hoping that I could understand his actions but we both knew I wouldn't.

This wasn't a matter of survival.

This was cold-blooded murder. A taboo in my eyes. A line that Edward had crossed, blurred and erased.

I felt sick... physically ill and it took everything in me not to hurl what little food remained in my near-empty stomach onto the vibrant green, foliage covered floor.

"When?" I don't even recognise the sound of my voice as I ask Edward - it sounds lifeless, cold, empty. Like all the energy had been drained from it making the tone colourless and bland.

"As he said... in Havana."

I didn't know whether I should scream, cry or simply curl up into a little ball with my hands clamped firmly over my ears - the pitiful notion that as if by doing that, I could block out the revelations poisoning my mind.

I remember; the days in Havana when it was just me and then Bonnet strolling down the poorly paved, dusty roads, discussing sugar trade and the weather whilst Edward was off galavanting, doing who knows what with God knows who. I remember shopping for muslin and silk dresses in varying shades of blue, green, yellow and pink, trying on dainty heels and admiring finely beaded purses and elaborate jewellery whilst Edward strolled about town at the heels of Torres and his men, murdering members of a dying Order. Drinking that night away, Edward turning up some time into our third bottle of rum, complaining about his 'pittance' - that same night, we had sauntered off towards Torres's manor, gotten captured and then thrown onto a Spanish Convoy. How did I not question the sudden increase in his wealth? Why did I not enquire as to how his day had been? Why wasn't I suspicious of his activities to which Bonnet and I had not been privy too?

It was funny; these people weren't even remotely close to the family I had left behind - they were foreigners to me, the only similarity being that they shared two things with me; the close knit family ties of the Order - after all, we were a small group generally which usually meant that we often came to know each other well - and the Creed, the Assassin's Creed to which we all lived by.

Yet, maybe it was the startling similarities - the notion of each member being _family_ \- that made hearing his admittance of guilt all the more difficult to hear. It was as if in some way Edward had landed a blow on _my_ family by destroying a part of theirs.

Yes... I felt physically and undeniably ill.

"Tess, please, don't-" Edward begins, taking a step toward me - to comfort me, to explain his actions - but the distance does not decrease; it remains the same as I move to take a step _away_ from the unfamiliar man before me, my eyes glued on the jungle floor, unable to bear looking into his face.

 _When did Kidd let me,_ I wonder, wrapping my arms around my body to stop it from trembling. "Please don't," I whisper but I know, despite the distance, that Edward can hear me loud and clear, "just... don't, Edward. I don't want to hear it."

"Tess..."

" _Please_... Don't," I moan, turning to bury my face in Kidd's chest, seeking comfort from the one person I knew wouldn't stab me in the back.

"You disgust me," the Assassin growls.

"He has the sense, mentor," Kidd interrupts and immediately the atmosphere becomes so tense, I swear that I could cut through it with any ordinary, blunt blade.

"Impossible," I murmur after a brief respite, now certain that I had heard Kidd incorrectly or that my brain had interpreted it inaccurately, since it was still recovering from the earlier revelation.

A dormant sixth sense that humans possess, the sense was a powerful tool passed on through a genetic trait - one could utilise this sense, also known as 'Eagle Vision,' through an intense and very long training period, however, there are some gifted individuals who display a greater concentration and are often found to be more likely naturally susceptible to the 'gift.' Those who possess the gift are able to instinctively sense how people and objects relate to them, which manifests in a sort of coloured glow - an aura, if you will. Red indicates enemies, blue allies, white sources of information or hiding spots and finally gold, which indicates targets or objects of interest. Of course, the sixth sense is not entirely infallible and there are also some individuals who develop exotic variations of the gift, some could even evolve the Eagle Vision into a more advanced ability; Eagle Sense, which is, in theory, able to heighten all the sense of its users, allowing them to detect details as minute as a heartbeat of a target within the area or even a prediction of target's part. The point being, only Assassin's with their special links to the First Civilisation and only those of extensive potential, were thought to possess The Sense.

Desmond possessed it, as did his ancestors. I didn't - I wasn't born with the gene for it, nor did I have the patience to learn such an art - or so Shaun, Rebecca and Desmond often teased. All in all, the concept of the Sense was no joke, and the Assassin's who stood around us in a small but constricting circle were obviously aware of that fact.

Was Kidd covering for Edward? If so, that was one Hell of a cover-up - 'the Sense' was a huge deal... it wasn't a joke and upon glancing up at Kidd's round, slightly feminine face, I could tell that the man before me was dead serious.

 _Well shit._

If the mentor was surprised, he didn't show it. He merely looked Edward up and down as if he were some sort of alien object that he had no clue how to dissect, or that Edward was bomb, thrown into his lap with a detonation time of 10 seconds that he couldn't work out how to dismantle.

"James tells me that you treated with the Templars there," the Assassin says, as if the very mention of the Sense hadn't just arisen in conversation but moments ago. "Did you see the man they call the Sage?" he continues.

"Aye," came Edwards' hesitant response before his azure eyes briefly flicker over to me.

I immediately look away - confused by the mess of emotions that wriggled and squirmed within the pit of my stomach.

"Would you recognise his face if you saw it again?"

"I reckon so..." Edward responds, "but I don't-"

"I must be certain," the man interrupts, his gaze drawn to where Kidd and I stand, side by side in mutual confusion, "Kidd... you will take Kenway and follow through with your plan... I will take the girl with me."

"Says who?" I snarl, folding my arms over my chest.

"Fuck no," Edward growls at the same time, moving to put himself between me and the very skilled, very strong and very efficient Assassin, "like I'm going to let you just take her and-"

"Not another word, Kenway," Kidd intrudes.

"You can't be serious? You're just going to let him go-"

"I'll go," I interrupt this time, yelling over Edward and Kidd's bickering just to be heard by the one who needed to hear it the most. I try to ignore the almost satisfied smirk on Kidd's face - just because he was the most trustworthy in the group didn't mean that I _trusted_ him - and avoid looking at Edward altogether as I push past him and face the man who asked for me in the first place. "I don't understand your reasons for wanting me on my own," I continue, ignoring Edward's soft growls as I continue to stride forward, a confidence in my step that I didn't know I possessed until now, face to face with a man whose abilities I could pretty much predict. Despite this, I knew I was defenceless against a master such as him, "but I'll go."

"Tessa, what are you doing?" Edward demands, grabbing my arm in order to halt my advance as the Assassin's begin to move off, the mentor at the rear waiting me to follow, which I would do if Edward's iron grip did not hold me perfectly still as if I were a statute.

He was upset - probably confused. I knew that because he only used my _real_ nickname when he wasn't impressed with my decisions. Desmond and Shaun used to do it as well, but for them, the warning signs were always when they said my full-name; Theresa Elizabeth North Hastings - mouthful, right?

I tense at the feel of Edward's hand against the skin of my wrist, rough but at the same time delicate, sending the familiar warm tingle of emotion that had been rearing it's head for a while now - yet, that warm, fuzzy emotion was also laced with a sickening dread that numbed me to my core. It took all of my effort to keep the bile rising in my throat down and for me to remain still, to not throw off Edward's arm and run for it.

I would hear him out. I always will. I just... couldn't look at him the same way... not now, not for a while.

"You trust Kidd," I point out, still avoiding looking directly in those haunting azure-grey eyes, fearful that upon looking into their depths I wouldn't be able to recognise the man before me any longer. The question was, in considering that fact, did I really know the man before me at all?

No.

Not really.

"That's different," Edward persists, "and I'm not even sure I _do_ trust him."

"Edward," I say, finally meeting his gaze, my mouth set in a firm line as I look upon the man who saved my life that day one year ago on that fateful beach, the man who cared for me in Havana despite his original promise ending the moment we pulled into the harbour. The man who rescued me from the slimy clutches of Spanish solider, who held me in his arms when the weight of the world was to much for me to bear on my shoulders alone, who laughed and teased with me, who made me feel safe.

It's funny, I can see all of those things but it's now tinted by the lie, obscured by the truth that is hard for me to comprehend.

Maybe I was being a hypocrite; Shaun and Rebecca, Lucy and Desmond, they had lied to me in the past yet I had forgiven them for worse things. Shaun used me as a scapegoat, Rebecca for her own personal gain, Desmond had point blank lied to my face on more than one occasion... Lucy... Lucy had been a Templar all along. So then why? Why was I able to forgive them? Why was I able to accept their actions but condone Edward's? Why couldn't I move past it.

 _Because you put him up on a_ _pedestal,_ a small whispers into my ear.

And maybe it's right... maybe that's why I find it so hard now to hold his gaze, to look him deadset in the eye, to automatically forgive him like I did in the past.

"Edward," I repeat, gently removing my arm from his grasp, surprised when he lets go without a fuss.

"You're going to go with him." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I answer anyway, already taking a few steps backwards toward where the small gang of Assassin's await, "I am going to go."

"I don't trust them," Edward says, his face taking on a look that seems almost desperate.

"I trust them more than I trust you."

The words just came out.

And I immediately regret them when I see Edward's face darken.

Still, I turn away and follow the skilful Assassins' down into the depths of the jungle, biting back the apology that begins to form on my lips the moment that sentence left my mouth.

I don't look back.


	15. Chapter 13

**A/N: sorry once again for the late uploads (I just can't catch a break.) To be honest, I thought I had uploaded the chapter but evidently that did not occur. I was so tired yesterday, however, that I didn't check to make sure that the chapter had indeed gone up as planned. So, forgive me but smile at the fact that another chapter has arrived! YAY**

 **Four days left for chapter 14 - if I get it done earlier, it will be up on Thursday (the day before my usual update days) as I'm not actually going to be here for the weekend :( Unfortunately, we're I'm going I won't be able to access my account - however, it's going to be loads of fun for little ol' me :)**

 **Enjoy!**

 **\- AshTree13 xoxo**

 **P.S sorry for any mistakes that may be present... I will read through this tomorrow and suss out any potential edits... right now though, I am exhausted and heading off to bed!**

* * *

 **Chapter 13:**

Regret is a terrible thing.

It eats you up inside until you are nothing but a shell, consuming you until it is the only thought you have. Whether you call regret bitterness, anguish, grief, heartache, remorse or sorrow, it eventually amounts to the same meaning:

"A feeling of sadness, repentance, or disappointment over an occurrence or something that one has done or failed to do."

Regret consumes me.

Why?

Why on earth had I chosen to be so cruel?

I could see it in his eyes when I glanced back over my shoulder; the pain, the regret... the guilt that engulfs him as the reality and the seriousness of his past actions hits him, only intensifying as the distance between the two of us widens and widens until we eventually disappear from each others sight. Now, some short time later, I replay the words of which I had thrown at Edward over and over in my head, cringing each time I recall the bitterness in my tone and the overwhelming feeling of betrayal that had held me in its tight grasp.

This was where my regret stemmed from - I had been a complete _idiot_!

Yes, I was upset that Edward hadn't told me anything about his dealings in Havana but at the same time, I never asked him... I never inquired as to how he managed to rake in a reasonable sum as he had, nor had I really questioned his motives for retrieving the Sage nor how he had exactly come to learn about this man's presence. That being said, I knew the robs he wore were that of an Assassins' but how was I to know until that very moment when Torres took me into his custody that Edward had chosen to work with my Order's greatest enemy? The answer? I couldn't know. It was just a random convenience that what had occurred in Havana, I would later discover would be connected so expertly to my past.

One then had to ask if this had anything to do with my going back in time... had someone known that these events would occur? Was it all part of some greater plan? Had Shaun and Rebecca set me up?

No... I highly doubt that last thought. Rebecca was a terrible liar and my adoptive brother was, in a word, protective - and I mean seriously protective - of me. Without a doubt, I knew they would would have informed me if the plan had changed its course; I was sure of that. Still... there must be a reason as to why I was here, as to why these specific events were occurring and why I was no suddenly a part of them.

Maybe it was fate? Destiny?

Perhaps it was just luck.

Either way, that shouldn't be my primary concern. Edward was my primary concern...

I shouldn't have reacted the way I did; it was a complete overreaction of a situation I couldn't say that I fully understood. I hadn't asked about Havana, I hadn't cared. I had no right to judge him to the extreme that I did but it had happened and I had to come to terms with that fact. Even if it hurt to admit it.

Once we returned, I would apologise... I would ask him to forgive me and I would forgive him, it was only fair-

"Hey!" I scream, when I feel someone grab my shoulders and pin my arms to my side. That same person - the "mentor" in fact - turns my stiffened body to face him, his dark eyes studying my flushed face as he does. While he takes his time studying me, I take the moment to observe him, noting his features and most importantly his weapons - if we were going to come to blows, I wanted to have at least some idea as to how it would turn out. Besides, the whole notion of observing potential was something that had been drilled into me since I was a small child; observe the enemy, take into account their physical attributes and whether or not they were heavily armed. Assess whether or not you could manipulate the situation, if you could overpower your enemy. Work out an escape, try and locate his/her weak spot. Strike only when the situation presents itself fairly. Stay calm, keep your face devoid of emotion. Survive.

Old habits die hard.

The Assassin - a mentor, I silently note, yet another badge of 'honour' and proof of his high rank and skill - was a man with little bulk; in that way he and Edward were almost similar. Both lean and agile rather than physically enormous and visibly strong like Adéwalé. Dark-skinned - possibly a native? Maybe even descended from the Mayans whose ruins crumbled around the two of us, easily identifiable amongst the varying green jungle, but also darkened from the intense sun of the Mexican coast. His face possessed particularly common features; eyes that were a dark, chocolate brown of which were slightly small for his strong-jawed face, a slightly big nose situated in the centre of the face, still straight despite possibly having it broken in a scuffle or two and slightly full lips. Really, the only distinguishable features that immediately drew my attention were the vibrant red and white face paint decorating the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones plus the hidden Assassin blades strapped to his wrists, a feature that almost every Assassin possessed in my time - obviously, that was the same here.

"Let me go," I tell him as firmly as I could, trying to stop my voice from wavering, "this wasn't-"

"Wasn't what, Miss Theresa North?" the man interrupts.

"How... how do you-?"

"Know your name?" the Assassin finishes, almost - keyword, _almost_ \- smiling, "my pupil - your _friend_ \- James Kidd informed me about you prior to your arrival here in Tulum."

"That Bastard," I mutter, biting my lip and immediately conjuring up ways I could torment the kid later - let me tell you, some of them were quite vivid. If only I had a stronger stomach, that way, I'd be able to actually _do_ them.

"Yes, Kidd told me everything he knew about you - which wasn't much, if I may add. He was correct in informing me of your beauty..."

At this, I find myself blushing.

"Also that you would be travelling with the pirate Edward Kenway, who was our primary aim," the man continues, ignoring my embarrassed expression and undeniably red cheeks, "Kidd informed us that if we were to capture Kenway, you would inevitability be by his side and unfortunately, that wasn't what we particularly wanted to hear... we needed you apart..."

"Hence the reason you separated us," I note.

"Correct," the man slowly lets go of my shoulders, watching as I roll my shoulders trying to get feeling back into my joints - he wasn't exactly gentle.

"So... why did you want Edward?" I ask, more than a little suspicious now that my earlier concerns about Kidd betraying us were just confirmed, "are you going to punish him for his actions? Or are you going to use him for your own personal gain... to find the Sage so you can find the Observatory?"

"You know of the Observatory?" For once, the man actually appears to be in shock.

 _Huh! Didn't see that one coming, did you?_

"Only that it has unforetold powers... the ability to track people no matter where they are, no matter what they're doing... the perfect way to keep track and hold power over each and every individual throughout the world," I drawl. I must admit that watching the Assassin fidget with uncertainty and suspicion was kind of entertaining - best entertainment I had had all day. "Why are you searching for it?" I demand, glaring at the man before me, my brow knotted together in frustration, my expression a mask of disgust, "it is a power too great for even the Assassin Order to wield. If we control this power, we are no better than the Templars."

"I knew it."

"Knew what?"

"That you were an Assassin," the man concludes and I have to stare, open mouthed and wide eyed at the Assassin because it was the last thing I expected to hear from him. Actually, it was the last thing I expected anyone to say to me.

"How-?"

"Would you like a detailed list?" the man asks sarcastically, rolling his brown eyes.

"How the Hell do you know that I'm-?"

"Part of the Order? Well... first, you said 'we' earlier, when you were telling me off for our race for the Observatory... secondly, those throwing knives you possess are but one of the many weapons any Assassin may choose to wield and you certainly knew how to do just that when you were trying to defend Kenway from Kidd and myself. Also, you seemed to comprehend what we meant when we discussed Kenway's possession of the Eagle Vision - something that many do not easily understand... regardless of all of these underlying factors, I am no fool, Miss North... I know the signs, I know when one knows more about our way of life than I may appear to. I was aware of your allegiance to our Order and our Creed the moment I saw you."

"I forgot," I begin, rolling my eyes, unable to prevent the small smile from breaking out onto my face, "just how observable a fully trained, experienced Assassin could be... it's been a while since I was actually in the company of one."

"Did you not think Kenway was an Assassin?"

"I speculated, but I wasn't entirely sure," I shrug, kicking at the leaf-strewn ground with the tip of my leather boots, the leather already damaged by weeks of abuse, "besides... I was always taught not to bring attention to those who may exist as part of our Order."

"Your teachers taught you well."

"Oh, no..." I say, raising my hands in mock surrender, noting that he had confused my association with the Assassin's as my being one of them, "no... I don't actually do the contracts... I'm more of... of... uh..."

 _How exactly do I explain the concept of hacking to someone who doesn't even comprehend the notion of a computer? Answer, you don't - you_ LIE!

"I'm more of an 'assistant,'" I inform him, the deception coming smoothly off my tongue, far easier than I imagined it would. In actual fact, it wasn't really a _lie_ as per say - I did assist the Assassin Order through my extensive knowledge in technology and human anatomy; one of these factors made me into an expert hacker (not to boast, but I was capable in breaking into any mainframe with little to no effort, the only time I'd ever struggle was when there was an intense amount of pressure on me to achieve the results desired) and also into a semi-nurse. In fact, it was not only my job to make sure that Abstergo couldn't track us nor was it only my job to break into high security databases, it was also my job to patch Desmond up whenever he got injured. I could set dislocated shoulders, wrap a sprained ankle, stitch-up gaping wounds and give vaccinations/booster shots when needed; I also had an extensive knowledge of the bodies pressure points, the circulatory system and also Chinese medicine which included acupuncture - one of my finer skills.

So yeah... 'assistant' was one way to put it.

"Ah Tabai!"

Distracting the two of us, we turn to face the flustered young man making his way towards our small band; his grey-brown eyes were wide with fear, sweat poured down his face, his tattered Assassins' hood thrown from his head, exposing the innocent and youthful appearance of the obviously trainee Assassin. Upon reaching us, he doubles over, hands on his knees, exposing his sweat-stained back as he struggles to regain his breath and pass on the message he obviously was sent to give.

The dark-skinned man - who I now know is the one they call Ah Tabai - places a meaty hand on the slender shoulder of the young boy, encouraging him to straighten and speak.

"M-men... foreigners... they're here... on the island..." the boy gasps brokenly.

"What? How?" Ah Tabai sharply demands, his chocolate eyes flashing.

"We don't know... they come out of nowhere... they've already managed to capture a few of the members... I... I was sent... to come find you."

"Find the others," Ah Tabai instructs, nudging the younger man in the direction of the Assassin settlement, his tone of voice filled with urgency, his actions swift as he examines his equipment and considers the situation at hand, "alert them to the situation, prepare to engage the enemy. Remain out of sight! Do not draw attention to ourselves... do not kill the ringleader, we must question him afterwards."

 _We need to find Edward and Kidd,_ I think, biting my lip and hurrying after Ah Tabai as he lengthens his stride, heading towards a denser section of the Tulum Jungle, obviously searching for a vantage point so he could assess the situation at hand clearly.

"Ah Tabai," I begin, tapping his shoulder as I do so to ensure that I have captured his attention.

"This is no time for questions, Miss North," he informs me, glaring at me with his cold eyes, "we must find Kenway and James and sort out the situation that your _friend_ has undoubtedly brought upon us."

"I was just going to say," I snap, "that we should find Kidd and Edward too!"

"Then we can at least agree on this matter, Miss North."

0-0-0-0-0-0

Edward and Kidd find us not moments later, emerging from a narrow crevice behind Ah Tabai and myself, Kidd's face tense as if he was already aware of the dire situation at hand, Edward's a mask of confusion which only intensifies when he finds the Mentor and I side-by-side, overlooking the Assassin Settlement with grave looks upon our face.

After taking in the scene before us, my eyes instantly sort out Edward who comes to my side as if summoned by an silent plea, one arm wrapping around my waist as he too looks out onto the crumbling Mayan Ruins and patchwork huts that made up the small village. Turning his face towards mine, his breath tickles my ear as he whispers a soft but heartfelt apology.

"We can discuss it later," I murmur under my breath in reply, reaching up to touch his cheek in what I hope is a form of reassurance, "there is more at stake then the state of our... relation-friendship," I hastily correct, flushing slightly at my grave error, "but know that I'm sorry too."

"You don't have to apologise, Tess," Edward assures me and just by using my familiar nickname, I know he isn't angry with the way I treated - a small relief amongst the ever-present danger lurking beneath the four of us.

"Quiet," Kidd mutters, elbowing me in my lower ribs.

 _Damn it, I didn't even notice him there,_ I think, using my free hand to massage my abdomen and ribcage, hoping to alleviate some of the sudden pain.

Taking my distraction as a perfect opportunity, Ah Tabai grabs Edwards shoulder and turns the blonde-haired pirate towards him so he can look him directly in the eye as he enquires, "The statue you saw in the temple... Is that the man you saw in Havana?"

"Spitting likeness, aye," Edward confirms, shaking his shoulder free from the Assassins' iron grip.

"It seems," Ah Tabai says, turning to face Kidd's inquisitive expression and my own confused one, "another Sage has been found... the Race for the Observatory begins anew."

"You're really going to go after it?" I ask, sighing when I see the hard look the man gives me, already aware of his answer before he even choses to give me a reply.

"Would you rather our enemies have it, Miss North?"

"I'd rather no one have it!" I hiss in return, shooting Ah Tabai my own furious look.

"What's going on?" Kidd asks, clearly confused by the exchange occurring between his Master and myself.

"Is that why we're whispering?" Edward also inquires, tilting his head to one side with a semi-cocky smile, not fully grasping the seriousness of the situation nor making sense of the conversation afoot.

"This is _your_ doing, Captain Kenway!" Ah Tabai growls, pointing out towards the village nestled within the supposed safety of the Tulum Jungle, his face a mask of fury, a vein throbbing at his temple. "The maps _you_ sold to the Templars have led straight to us!"

Kidd, Edward and I glance over the ledge, still keeping out bodies and faces hidden amongst the shadows of the cliffs overhanging but still far enough out of the cover to clearly watch the events unfolding. A soldier in a red uniform pushes a bound Assassin to his knees with the sole of his boot and then loads his gun, pointing it at the back of the Assassin's hooded head, then _bang!_

"Agh-"

I feel hands clamp over my mouth before the scream can fully take form and my initial reaction is to struggle but upon glancing over my shoulder, my wild and frantic eyes meet Edwards' solemn gaze and I find myself instantly relaxing, the majority of my bodyweight sagging against his chest. Yet, despite my shock at seeing a man shot dead, I can't help but watch the crimson blood of the faceless man lying dead on the ground, spread slowly across the once green jungle floor, dying the land around his fallen corpse a shade of rusty, bloody death.

Kidd turns away in disgust, his brow furrowed as he desperately tries to comprehend the situation but I can see in his wild eyes that he can't.

It's really quite simple - kill or be killed.

Edward seems to have the same idea.

"I had no idea that this would happen," he tell the Mentor, his azure eyes clouded with a hint of guilt at being unintentionally the cause of so much pain but at the same time coloured with fury at being trialled for a crime he wasn't aware that he had committed.

"It does not matter!" Ah Tabai snarls, lunging forward only to be stopped by Kidd and myself - Kidd holds his mentor back, hands laid flat against the man's chiseled chest whilst I whip out one of my many concealed knives, holding it out before me as a warning whilst my free arms lies across Edwards' chest, preventing him from taking a stride forward.

"Now," Ah Tabai continues, shaking off Kidd's hold, "the Agents of Two Empires know exactly where we operate."

"Maybe you should have chosen your friends more wisely," I shoot back, my anger bubbling to the surface as this stranger ridicules and criticises choices that Edward wasn't aware would have dire consequences, "this issue began the moment your 'brother,' Duncan Walpole decided that it would be far more beneficial to assist the Templars rather than his family."

"I do not answer to a child!" Ah Tabai spits, stalking off towards the crevice without another word.

"Let me handles this, Mentor," Kidd says, taking a step towards his Master, a determined look upon his face.

"They have taken Edward's Crew as well," Ah Tabai announces and my heart sinks - perhaps I was too hasty in making accusations, letting my temper run wild when it shouldn't have. "I wonder," the hard-faced man continues, glaring at the pair of us - that is, Edward and myself - before turning his head away, "I wonder what their lives are worth to him?"

"Shit," I murmur, looking back out towards the captured Assassin Settlement, kicking a loose stone over the ledge, " _shit!_ "

"My sentiments exactly," Edward murmurs in agreement, his gaze following mine.

"Take this," Kidd suddenly says, extending towards Edward a small bamboo shoot, hollowed out.

"A Blowpipe," I murmur, recognising the basic structure of the simplistic but deadly weapon. They weren't as common in mine time, but the concept of the age-old firearm still remained as present as ever.

"Yes," Kidd answers, although my observation wasn't a question. He trusts the bamboo weapon into Edward's waiting hands, his dark eyes obscured by the looming shadows so I could not make out his expression, "you'll attract no attention and take fewer lives."

"And you're?" Edward begins, stowing the blowpipe safely on his person and also drawing his Assassin Hood so his features too are obscured by shadow.

"I'm going to go my own way... we'll cover more ground."

"That's a good strategy," I admit, re-drawing three of my silver throwing knives, agility balancing them between my fingers, "what do we do with those we've freed?"

"I assume they'll know what to do," Kidd informs me before backing away into the darkness, the only evidence of his fleeing presence the sound of dislodged pebbles as he escapes to take care of half of the situation.

"You sure you can handle those?" Edward asks me, staring pointedly at the minute but sharp blades disappearing and reappearing between my slender fingers, "because you're not exactly an expert at close combat... besides, I thought you didn't know how to fight."

"I don't," I tell him with an impish smile, "but Kidd nor Ah Tabai have to know that... neither do they," I tilt my head towards the red clad soldiers, my eyes gleaming with mischief. "Besides... I'm reasonably accurate with these. Far better at embedding these into my enemy rather than lodging a bullet into their skull."

Edward, looking slightly impressed by my new-found courage indicates with a nod in the direction of the prisoners that we aught to get moving, lest those still alive end up like the Assassin whose skull was cracked open by the single shot of a - I wish I could say stray - bullet.

"We need to talk," he says suddenly under his breath when we're halfway down the cliff face, "we need to put all our cards on the table... because we both have secrets we've tried to hide but look at the mess that got us into."

I nod my consent and with a pleased expression, Edward continues onwards, motioning that I follow closely behind him. Yet as I follow the man, I can't help but wonder which will be worse, the scuffle about to unfold or the enviable discussion we must have about our pasts, the present and the new future?


	16. Chapter 14

**A/N: As we know by now, the sever for this website wasn't working for a little while but that's not an excuse for my lateness… I know that I've uploaded late but at the moment it seems that I really can't to commit to a certain date and for that I am very apologetic. However, I think you will forgive me after reading this chapter… I am sure that some of you may be quite pleased with what occurs. On that note, enjoy my lovelies :)**

 **-AshTree13 xoxo**

 **P.S this is by far the longest chapter yet, but somehow I feel that it needed to be... still, sorry for the long read ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 14:**

Life is a fragile thing.

In a single moment, at the making of a decision, your life could change for either better or for worse.

I had always considered life to be as delicate as a hatchling, a baby bird who could not yet fly but had the possibility to do so, who had bright eyes but could not see in the future; a creature entirely dependant on the love of its mother and the safety of its nest. It must be cared for, it must coddled with joy and kindness and affection and, to an extent, discipline; it must be allowed to make mistakes but be taught to correct them before it grows out of hand - it must be taught to be free.

Most of all, it must develop a conscious so to be able to distinguish between right and wrong.

That line, however, is often blurred - the concept of "life" after all was never set in stone.

Leaning against one of the many crumbling pillars of the Mayan ruins, I try to steady my racing heart by controlling my breathing, the simplistic instructions to _breathe in, breathe out_ racing through my wired brain. My stomach clenches and I double over, dry heaving as I attempt to throw up the empty contents of my stomach, my head aching as the endless hum of chatter continues to reign supreme and the nausea continues to prevail. When I cough nothing up, I lean my back against the pillar and slowly slide to the soft jungle floor, curling my fingers around the grass blades as I close my eyes and try to move past the notion of my head feeling as if someone was repeatedly slamming a hammer against my fragile skull.

"Tess?"

I flinch at the sound of Edwards' voice which, despite its gentleness, is far too loud for my feeble brain to currently comprehend. Clamping my hands over my ears to mute the excess noise, I bury my head between my knees and attempt to swallow my growing nausea, knowing that the next time my stomach heaved I would be cough out something, anything, no matter how small the resulting mess would be. It was funny; there was nothing for me to throw up yet the instinct remained.

"Tessa, look at me," Edward says in a coaxing tone, his voice closer and softer than it was a minute or two ago.

I shake my head in reply; _no._ My heart rate accelerates, my headache fading to a kind of light-headed dizziness that made the nausea only worse and caused the world beneath me to feel as if were spinning, despite my eyes being firmly closed and the only thing I could 'see' being the complete darkness of my eyelids. My hands felt as if a thousand tiny needles were digging into my skin, numbing my fingers to the point where I felt nothing and my body trembles as a light sweat covers my skin. I felt like I couldn't breathe even though I was essentially panting like an overheated dog; my mouth was dry, my eyes ached, my abdomen would not stop feeling as if someone had taken my stomach into their fist and squeezed.

I guess this was what one might call a panic attack.

"Tessa," I feel Edward press his hands against my shoulders, his feather-light touch soothing the tremors shaking my entire being, "Tess, darling, you need to breathe."

"Darling?" I croak, somewhat amused by the random pet-name.

"Tess, just open your eyes and look at me," Edward says, one hand now caressing my cheek whilst the other runs cool fingers across my throbbing forehead.

"I can't," I whisper, the fear and guilt had too strong a hold.

"Yes you can."

"I _can't_ ," I sob but as I do, my eyes crack open and I'm blinded by the sudden onslaught of light despite the fact that darkness had prevailed with the night - however, the moon is a full orb lording over the night sky and the resulting moonlight is almost overwhelming to my tender eyes.

"Idiot, you're not blind," Edward chuckles, tilting my chin so my eyes can find his.

"Don't look at me," I cry, trying to turn my head away but his grip is strong and no matter how hard I struggle - to be honest, I'm not putting as much effort as I should into it - I cannot escape his intense gaze. The reality of that hits me and I burst into tears, my eyes burning as the salty water leaks from the corners of my eyes and trail down my flushed cheeks.

I want to run and hide from view; I don't want Edward to see me.

"Why?" he demands, his hands cupping the sides of my face so he can study my expression.

I close my eyes once more and continue to weep, ignoring the question entirely.

"Why Tess? Why can't I look at you? Because you killed a man?"

I gasp at hearing those dreaded words and brace my hands against his chest, pushing as hard as I could so I may escape from his knowing gaze and the truth I have been trying to deny. "No," I wail, when Edward grabs my hands - now clenched into fists - and holds them away from his chest so I cannot bruise his skin. "No," I repeat, my voice rising to a scream, "no, no, no, no, _noooooooooo!_ "

"Stop screaming!"

" _NO_!"

"Tessa," Edward barks, shaking my trembling, blood-stained body, "just fucking _breathe_."

"I can't," I whine and it truly is a struggle to take my next breath.

"You already are! You just to take a deep breath in and one out and calm down!"

"I-I-I c-c-can't," I try to speak but at Edward's sharp gaze, I take his advice - advice that echoed my earlier instructions to myself - and attempt to take a deep breath in and then release it.

When I manage to do this three times, the difference is immediately evident. For one, my head which previously felt lighter than air, now feels almost grounded - well, the world has at least stopped tilting on a precarious edge. My heart rate slows to a gentle thump, allowing for my ears to pick up the unfamiliar sounds of the jungle which were previously obscured by the sound of blood rushing to my cheeks and brain. Although tears still leak from the corners of my eyes and although my body still trembles, I am able to think clearly.

And I'm incredibly embarrassed by my previous actions.

"I'm so sorry," I apologise, my voice little more than a whispered croak. I clear my throat and try again but I produce the same result.

"Don't apologise," Edward assures me, brushing away my tears with rough fingers dyed red with crusted blood, "it's quite refreshing to see such a human reaction to murder."

"Oh God," I moan, burying my face in my hands, the scent of drying blood invading my nostrils, "oh my God, I killed someone, Edward… I _killed someone_."

"Tess..."

"I murdered somebody, Edward," I cry, fresh tears making their way down my already tear-stained cheeks, "I took their life and all it took was a decision to aim and then throw a sharp-edged silver knife, positioned just right so that when it struck it hit the jugular. I planned it Edward! I may not have realised it at the time but I stood there, considered how I should go about it and then I _ended somebodies life_!"

Pausing, I try to disrupt the flow of tears but give up once I realise that it wasn't going to happen anytime soon. "I bled someone out... I stood there as they bled to death and looked them right in the eye-"

As I recall the event, I could easily picture it occurring as if I had taken a step back in time and gone back to witness this strangers death. I can see the tip of my blade entering his neck, severing tendons, breaking bones until it reached one of the most important veins of the body - the jugular. The effect had been immediate; blood began to gush from the wound and only increased in pressure when the soldier removed the blade from the injury - free from obstruction, his blood was able to come out in a warm, steady stream which stained his already red jacket the colour of fresh blood. His body had then collapsed to the jungle floor, his paling hands clutching at his neck laceration as blood seeped through his fingers and stained the green jungle crimson, that same blood bubbling out of his mouth as he struggled to breathe, choking on a mix of spit and gore. I remember slowly approaching him, my boots soaking through with his lifeblood the moment I had reached the strangers side, my eyes locked on his ashen face as it dawned upon him as to who I was.

His killer.

Reaching out a blood-drenched hand, the man had gasped out a single word before finally passed from this world, the light fading from his eyes.

What was the word?

 _Help!_

"I'm a monster," I lament, wrapping my arms around my body as I'm shaken by sobs, "what was I thinking? I'm a monster!"

"You're not a monster," Edward soothes, wrapping his arms around my quivering from and running his fingers through my knotted curls. Despite the fact that his finger catch in the tangles, he gently combs through them with his coarse fingers and smooths the chaotic disorder that is my hair, tucking loose strands behind my ears as he often does. Then - and this momentarily stuns me - he presses his warm lips to my exposed forehead, before resting his against my smooth skin so he can gaze at me eye-to-eye. "You're not a monster," he repeats at a whisper, his azure-blue eyes gentle, "what you did Tess was make a decision that, at the time, you fought was necessary. I may be bias about that particular decision since it saved my life, but you made the right choice. You can't let doubt in otherwise you will, and mark my words, you will go insane with the guilt."

"But-" I start, reluctant to hear the truth in his words.

"Tess, sometimes the choices we make aren't always considered to be the right ones," Edward closes his eyes and rests his chin on the crown of my head, his fingers continuing to run through my wild, flame-red curls, "however, often we find that the choices are the ones that had to be made at the time. The fact is, no matter what, we can't go back in time and change them, no matter how much we may want to."

I stiffen at the 'back in time' reference, feeling immensely guilty at the reminder of a very important truth I had not yet disclosed to the handsome pirate holding me close.

"The decisions we make define us," Edward continues, pushing my body gentle away from his, grey-blue eyes locking into mine with an intensity, a desire to make me comprehend exactly what he is trying to say. "You can either let your decision torment you with guilt, or you can move on and accept that the choices you made were the right ones."

It made sense.

If anything, I now understood what it truly meant to be an Assassin - courage and an iron will. Amazing that I had lived my entire life thinking I knew what it mean to live as an Assassin, to be apart of an exclusive and deadly order, only to take another's life to really comprehend what that really implied.

I had made a decision to end someone's life to save another. I shouldn't regret it, particularly when the person I had saved understood the consequences of my actions and how they would affect someone like me. There was no point in wallowing in despair, thinking I should have done things differently when I couldn't alter my actions. Really, the reality of the situation had been simple, 'kill or be killed.'

Like I would admit it though.

"When did you get so wise?" I tease, blinking back my pointless tears.

"I have no idea what you mean," he replies, raising an eyebrow in amusement, "I've always been wise, _you_ never listen to what I have to say."

"That's not true," I feebly object, my muscles relaxing further as I participate in Edward and I's familiar banter, "you're advice sucks."

"You know what?" Edward asks, once again griping my chin between two fingers so to bring my face closer to his and to hold my head steady. He didn't need to do so; his eyes always had this strange numbing effect on me, inspiring warmth to claw its way from the pit of my stomach to my entire body, causing my skin to tingle - and in a good way.

"What do I know?"

"I've never met a more ungrateful child," he answers, his face betraying nothing but the gravity of his words; even though I know that at his heart, he's not the least bit serious.

" _Child_?!" I exclaim.

Edward laughs - a real, heartfelt laugh - and once more knocks his forehead against mine, "I just love how your expression betrays each and every emotion you experience when you experience it. You're so easy to read."

"My brother used to call me an open book," I admit, rolling my eyes when Edward lets out a snort of amusement.

"You're also incredibly difficult," he continues, "sometimes, I can't read you no matter how hard I try."

I have no reply to that contradictory statement.

"That's the first time I've heard you mention a brother…"

"We're not related by blood," I tell him, reaching for the familiar chord and pearl I wore around my neck, twirling the cold jewel between my fingers as I reminisce, "I was adopted by his parents when I was about four… is this what you meant earlier by 'we need to talk?'"

Edward nods, his eyes drifting from my face to the horizon where the moon hangs over a black, silent sea. "I want to know more about you," he admits, "I don't want to be… how should I put it? I don't want to be caught off guard like I was earlier." His eyes snap back to my face and I note that the serious aura about Edward is indeed the real thing, "I want to know about you Tessa. Everything. How you're connected to this group, how you ended up on that beach that day… what you were like before I dragged you into this corrupt, sinful world."

Studying Edward's face, I reach out and touch his cheek, nodding in agreement. "Okay," I agree albeit slowly, considering what that would entail, "But I want _you_ to tell me about _your_ life… the life you had before you met me."

"Deal."

Nodding once more, I pull myself away from Edward and sit directly across from him, pulling my leather-clad knees to my chest. Taking a deep breath, I launch into my story.

"I don't remember much about my life prior to the age of four. My parents died when I was a baby - I don't remember much about my family and what I do know was told to me by others. None of what I know about them is from my own memory..."

At Edward's expression, I smile reassuringly and shake my head, "don't feel bad for me. I was adopted into a great family and they treated me as if I were truly their flesh and blood… some of the happiest years of my life were spent with my adoptive family."

"Between my adoptive parents and my adoptive brother, Shaun was the one who I was - am - closest too. He doesn't always have the best personality - I mean, most of the time he's a sarcastic jerk but he's… you know… he's my brother and I'd forgive him for any of his faults - but he also has some amazing qualities. For one, it was him who encouraged me to keep succeeding in everything I did; no one believed that I could succeed in what I wanted to do, no one except for him and for that I will always be grateful. He's also the reason I'm so passionate about history - he turned his passion into his job and as a result, history was often something we would discuss at dinner or late at night… Shaun is also the one who got us involved with the Assassin Order."

At this Edwards' thoughts, which may have been wandering slightly, snaps to attention - this is the good stuff.

"For as long as I can remember," I continue, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear absently, "Shaun was obsessed with conspiracy theories - kind of like you and the Observatory (at this Edward rolls his eyes and gives me his devil-may-care smile.) He managed at 15, I was about 11 or 12 at the time, to stumble across a conspiracy theory in action and discovered that those participating in it were up to, as he put it 'no good.' It inspired him to prevent their wrongful activities, and while he was working as a professor, he began to spread the word about their misdeeds."

"These people… they were Templars, weren't they?"

"Yeah," I answer, biting my lip, "and once they caught whiff of what Shaun was doing, they immediately took action. It was a few years after he began publishing that the Templars kidnapped my brother and… well, he escaped but at the time I was not aware of that fact. I was afraid I'd never see him again - I was aware, you see, exactly what he had been up to and knew that if I continued, I would be next. It was… difficult, trying to move on and forget about my brother, forget the situation he had managed to get himself into… trying to forget that my brother may be dead and I could be next. However, some time passed and he was able to get into contact with me again; when he did, he was already a part of the Assassin Order and was determined to do some good and bring an end to the people who kidnapped him. I was 19 when he convinced Rebecca - the woman who had inducted him into the Creed - that I, too, should be a part of the group-"

"And you were accepted?" Edward interrupts.

"It took a lot of effort - years of training condensed into weeks, skills that I had not yet refined put to the test in life or death situations… but yes," I answer with a nod, "I was accepted. Since that day, the Assassin's have been my family and it was through them that I was able to gain some insight into my parents. When I was writing out some old records - missions, Assassins active and those deceased, expenses… you know, those type of things - I stumbled across these papers which informed me not only of my parents death, but also the fact that they had belonged to the Order for as long as they had lived."

"You're kidding."

"It was a shock for me too... but I found their names, clear as day, despite the fact that some mice had made a snack of the old parchment, on a record of death… I also found their birth records and their mission logs," I smile, remembering the moment when I realised that in my hands I held essentially a portion of my life that I never knew. It was a confronting point in time, sitting at a desk in the dank, musty and without a doubt, dusty storeroom with the glow of the computer illuminating the faded pages. I remember my eyes absorbing each and every piece of information laid out on the yellowed parchment, committing each date, each important detail about their lives, to memory. Some part of me had hated my parents for dying, for leaving me as an infant alone without ever knowing what it meant to have a 'real' family but upon reading those documents, the resentment I once had faded away and all that remained was pride and love.

"My father was an Assassin, one of the best according to what the reports said. My mother on the other hand had been a contact, someone who gave Assassin's missions rather than participated in them. At first," I say, frowning as I try to get my words out in what I hoped would be the 'right' way, "it was hard… yet… it was something to cling to about my parents who I once knew nothing about. And maybe it was because of the fact that they were part of the Order, but it made me feel as if I belonged more with them, you know?"

"What was - is - it like?"

"Hmmm?"

"Being an Assassin?" Edward clarifies, catching the unmistakable glint of my silver knives, tucked securely into their leather pouch.

"It's-"

"God damnit!"

"Kidd, nice to see you're not dead," Edward says, his eyes flickering briefly to the young pirate.

"Nice to see you too," I return, Edward and I's conversation dying out before it could truly begin. Some part of me was relieved knowing that now there was no need to discuss the finer details about my past and by past, I mean Desmond. I wasn't ready to discuss the man who I was once loved - still love - more than I ever thought possible.

 _He didn't get to tell me anything about himself,_ I think, a little disappointed that the conversation hadn't been redirected to his past.

"Bastards been a target for years," the dark-haired boy growls, lashing out at a nearby seedling that was immediately uprooted from the safety of its soil, "bloody Hell, we nearly had him!"

"Nearly had who?" I ask, curious.

"Laurens Prins," Kidd grumbles, "he's a Dutch slaver, living like a king in Jamaica."

"Oh," I answer, getting to my feet when Edward offers me his hand.

"By God, you Bravos are a cheery bunch," Edward chuckles sarcastically, rolling his eyes and throwing an arm around my shoulder when he notices me shiver from the cold, his body radiating heat and comfort.

"We find no amusement in the situation, Captain Kenway," comes Ah Tabai's voice somewhere behind the pair of us, "apologies if that makes us seem dull."

The two of us turn to face the approaching Master Assassin, whose dark, painted face is twisted into an expression which is reminiscent of thunder. While Edward glares at the older man, I incline my head in greeting, always aware that as an Assassin myself, I should be polite to those more experienced.

"Miss North," he greets with a stiff nod.

"You have remarkable skills," Ah Tabai begrudgingly admits to Edward, "as do you, Miss North…"

"Thanks mate," Edward notes, squeezing my shoulders when he feels me tense beneath his hold, "it's natural, you see."

"But you are childish," Ah Tabai growls, approaching the two of us with a face of thunder, "arrogant, prancing around in a uniform you did not earn… if anything, that girl beside you should be proudly displaying her heritage with those stolen robes."

"I think I'll stick to black leather and my blouse, thanks," I retort.

"Everything is permitted," Edward states, raising his arms in mock surrender, "isn't that your motto?"

"That is _your_ motto," Ah Tabai snarls.

At Kidd's sharp look, he clears his throat and averts his eyes, saying with what appears to take a lot of effort on his part, "I however, absolve you of your errors in Havana-"

"Thank god," I whisper, subconsciously reaching for Edwards' hand - feeling my fingers tap his, Edward loops our hands together and gives me reassuring squeeze.

"That being said," Ah Tabai continues and at this, he seems to take great pleasure in watching Edward's relieved expression shift to one of disbelief, "you are not welcome here and I must ask you to immediately vacate the premises."

"Hold on, that's not fair," I argue, taking a step forward but Edward's grip on my hand keeps me from doing something I would otherwise regret, "Edward helped all of you! If it weren't for him that Slave trader would be leaving the village with at least 30 new slaves to sell and make a handsome profit!"

"Tess, I don't particularly care," Edward murmurs reassuring in my ear, his calloused thumb rubbing circles into the palm of my hand, the one which he held in his gentle yet restraining tenure.

"Sorry Tess," Kidd sighs, his hand resting on my shoulder for but a second since I throw it off impatiently, "wish it were otherwise but Ah Tabai makes the rules here and… well…"

"He's supposed to be your friend!" I snap, glaring at the feminine man.

"He _is_ my friend," Kidd retorts with a slightly offended look.

"Tess, James, just shut it," Edward sighs, pulling me back to his chest, a position which enables him to throw his arms around my upper torso, preventing me from moving despite my wiggling in his steel clutches.

"You may return, Miss North," Ah Tabai informs me, his dark eyes watching my face intently, perhaps reading my expression as easily as Edward, "you are a part of this Order and thus, we will always welcome you here."

"Oh."

"However," he continues, "you are not permitted within our lands if Edward Kenway is in your company."

"What bullshit!" I shriek, my face burning red with barely contained anger, "like I'd come back without Edward… you have another thing coming if you think that's ever going to happen."

"This is where you should be," Ah Tabai insists and surprising I can see concern in his dark gaze - concern for my general welfare or concern for his potential pawn?

"No," I correct, managing to remove myself from Edwards' control and striding forward, poking Ah Tabai sharply in his well-defined chest, "I belong with Edward."

Turning on my heel, I spin away from the Assassin Mentor and saunter towards Edward, grabbing his hand as I go and pulling his body - heavy with confusion and momentary surprise - after my petite form. "Let's go Edward, we should know when we're not wanted."

"Well… you're wanted," Edward points out with a breathy laugh, "I'm not."

"Thank you for your amazing observation, Captain Obvious," I snort.

"I'll see the two of you in Nassau," Kidd says as we pass him, his eyebrows quirked upright in amusement after watching the scene before him.

"Great," I answer sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"See you there," Edward replies, chuckling at my half-hearted reaction.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Adorable."

"Pardon?" I come to a stop on the sandy shores of the Tulum coast, glancing over my shoulder at my blonde-haired companion who, after what feels like hours of silence, speaks.

"Adorable… or cute… I think cute sounds better," Edward murmurs absentmindedly, nearly colliding with my solitary form whilst distracted, "you stopped… why did you stop?"

"Why do you keep saying random words?"

"Hmmmmm?"

"'Cute?' 'Adorable?'" I give him a puzzled look, "am I missing something."

"I was just thinking that you're cute when you're pissed," Edward chuckles.

"I'm not cute," I gasp, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at the handsome man before me, who continues to chuckle despite the look of death I was sure I was giving him.

"Fine, you're sexy."

I blush and look away, yet despite the removal of my gaze I can still feel Edwards' intense stare which is both exhilarating and unsettling. I shift my weight from foot to foot, waiting for Edward to resume the conversation but the silence continues to stretch between us and I'm not entirely sure what I should say. Should I thank him for the slightly demeaning compliment? Should I ignore it and continue towards the Jackdaw which I can see anchored off the coast just out of the corner of my eye. No, that one wasn't an option.

"Can you stop staring at me?" I ask, turning my face back to his, startled when I see how close he is. "W-when did you…?" I stammer, taking a small step back, alarmed by his intense, unwavering concentration, his grey-blue eyes obscured by shadows, moving slowly over my face.

Without warning he closes the distance and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling my feeble body to his, my hands braced against his chest in an attempt to keep what little distance between us that I could. My heart pounds at a speed that was almost reminiscent of my earlier panic attack but it wasn't uncomfortable unlike then; no, it was more of a flutter which caused warmth to spread throughout my body, the blood rushing to my cheeks in a heated blush. My throat felt dry - it hurt to swallow - and my eyes kept trying to avoid his but attracted to his azure depths, they always returned to his. "Ed…ward?" I whisper, feeling rather light-headed.

"Beautiful," he mutters, so quietly that my ears strain to pick up the simple word.

"W-w-what?"

"I don't think I thanked you for what you did," Edward suddenly says, startling me out of my hazy stupor.

"I… I don't…?"

"For saving my life."

"But you did…" I reply, my brow crinkled in confusion, "at least, I'm sure you did…"

"Not properly," Edward murmurs.

"What exactly do you mean by prop-"

But all the questions that I had flew from the confines of my mind when I felt his lips press up against me. He tasted like salt as I expected, but also faintly of alcohol and what was possibly blood, most likely a result of his split lip from the earlier brawl and… Edward… he tasted like himself, which may sound strange but it was the only thing I could really connect Edward to.

At first all I can do is stare, unresponsive to the kiss despite the pressure Edward forces upon my lips, my eyes taking his closed eyes and his rather long eyelashes. However, soon I begin to respond, my fingers clutching the front of his shirt as I struggle to remain upright, my knees shaking from exhilaration and passion. My eyes flutter closed and I'm engulfed by pleasant darkness; my nostrils inhale his unmistakable saltwater-laced scent as I melt into the kiss and all I can think as Edward slowly moves his tongue into my mouth, recognising my willingness to participate, is that if I was to put this into words, I would say it was as if I were floating on a cloud.

All too soon, the kiss comes to an end and I'm left breathless, more than a little stunned and confused. Confused because one, that kiss was more a little unexpected, two, I enjoyed it more than I thought I would to the point where three, if that was Edwards' idea of a thank you, I was very willing to participate in any future thank yous… and finally four… four… not once did I sit there and think that that was wrong and it was wrong.

Very, very, very wrong.

"Thank you," Edward repeats, pressing his forehead against mine.

"Edward…" I begin, clearing my throat when his name comes out at a croak.

"Let's go," he interrupts, running a hand through his blonde curls, his eyes unable to look me directly in the face. His cheeks were slightly red, his shirt crumpled from my tight grip, his lips almost as red as his flushed cheeks.

"But… Edward… we-"

"Adéwalé will be waiting for us, wondering what we've been up to…" Edward continues, ignoring my attempts at a conversation, "come… I thought you were anxious to get going?"

"I am, it's just-"

"Well then, let's go."

As Edward walks away, I raise my hand to my lips and finger the soft, swollen pads, my head spinning. Why hadn't I stopped him? I had my chance to shove him away before he deepened that kiss but I had allowed his tongue to touch mine and as a result, I indulged in his affections. I was… disgusted but at the same time I was pleased, my stomach fluttering with invisible butterflies.

"Tess, let's go!"

Startled out my daydream, I look to Edward's retreating figure and shake my head, clearing it of any thoughts that were in regards to that kiss.

 _Forget that it ever happened,_ I tell myself firmly and upon reassuring myself that it was merely a thank you… a game… I begin to run after Edward, my face flushed and my heart soaring with unmistakable joy.


	17. Chapter 15

**A/N: hello everyone, special treat - DOUBLE UPLOAD! YAY ^-^ I think we all deserve it - you for patiently waiting for me to upload and for myself, a reward for not tearing my hair out after the sever issues that have been going on… *sigh* Of course, that means that there won't necessary be an upload on friday, so bear that in mind...**

 **Anyways... this is an M-rated fan fiction guys so I expect that you expect possibly some sex scenes between Edward and Tessa (?) - and I can tell you now that yes, there will be. This chapter is the first of many… please bear the fact in mind that this is the first time I've really written scenes like this… so if you want to give me so advice, go ahead - I am always open to your advice - but also know that it is my first time and I will improve. :)**

 **For those who don't want to read smut (not that it really goes too far in this particular chapter… okay, I lie, it kinda does...) you may want to skim read or skip…**

 **For everyone else, please enjoy the next instalment of Down The Rabbit Hole ^_-**

 **-AshTree13 xoxo**

 **P.S apologies for yet another lengthy chapter… I really can't resist**

* * *

 **Chapter 15:**

"Are you going to take Kidd's advice?"

"You mean carry out the paid missions?" Edward asks me, curling a red-gold strand of my hair around his index finger in a thoughtful, lazy motion, "I'm not sure… the pay sounds good though…"

"Hmmm," I reply, leaning back against his chest, listening to the muted sounds of the gentle sea.

I was more than a little relieved when Edward suggested that we retire to his quarters after boarding the Jackdaw; my head was starting to pound with the beginnings of a headache and felt heavy, as if there were weights weighing down my skull. My legs felt like jelly, a delayed response I suppose from my exhaustion, the muscles of my thigh and calf aching from their overuse or perhaps its an aftereffect of Edwards' rough, all-consuming kiss. Cheeks burning, I rest my warm cheek against his equally warm chest, my fingers tensing around a clump of his shirt as I recall that star-studded moment, although the sudden desire to pull away from the comfort and warmth of his embrace causes goosebumps to rise on my skin.

However, I don't move.

I'm far too content lying in Edwards' arms and besides, fatigue has weighed down my limbs to the point where even considering movement was almost sickening. I was certain that if I tried to climb out of the large bed, I would end up on the floor his cabin, possibly going down face first, becoming a heap of leather and thin cotton sheets.

"You okay?" Edward asks me, shifting slightly so the make himself more comfortable against his pillows, which tend to be as hard as rocks. His hawk-like eyes watch with me with their usual intensity, giving nothing away but curiosity.

I know that despite the lack of visible light in the shadow-filled cabin, Edward can see a faint blush appear across my cheeks which tell tales of my embarrassment. With that in mind, I squirm in his grasp and bury my face as much as possible into the curve of his neck, breathing in his strange yet familiar scent. "I'm fine," I tell him and it's more or less the truth; I'm not unwell, I'm just… just…

 _Highly uncomfortable,_ whispers a tiny voice.

But that wasn't entirely true either. I was comfortable... _very_ comfortable where I was and had no plans of disturbing this peace any time soon.

"I'm just… tired," I yawn, allowing my eyes to close momentarily, sighing as my body relaxes.

"Do you want me to take the contracts?" Edward asks rather abruptly, ceasing his stroking of my hair which causes my eyes to flutter open and stare up at him in amazement.

"Why do you want my opinion?" I enquire curiously, tilting my head upwards so I can read his unreadable expression, one of my eyebrows arched in confusion. At the same time, I feel quite pleased that Edward was asking for a second opinion and that the person he was seeking advice from was none other than myself. It felt like, for what may be the first time, that Edward generally cared about my input and judging from his somewhat anxious expression, my opinion would be noted and considered.

"Well… if you're really sure?" I whisper, still giving him the chance to back out and make his own choices as he so often does. When he's still waiting rather patiently for my response, I take a deep breath and, "well… I think that it's okay for you to do them... after all, they do bring in a substantial amount of gold. To be honest, only you can make the decision to do it but it seems like a fair deal... no strings attached."

I shrug and look at him, surprised when I see disbelief and anger painted on his handsome features.

 _Did I say something wrong?_ I silently wonder, shifting uncomfortably under his exasperate gaze.

"So…" Edward begins slowly, as if he was struggling to comprehend what I just told him, "you're saying that if I want to murder people for money, then I should just go ahead and do it?"

"No!" I exclaim, pulling away from his embrace to stare at him with my own expression of disbelief, confused as to how the conversation came to be the beginnings of a quarrel, "no, murder is never okay. I'm just saying that Kidd is giving you a chance to earn a little more money-"

"By killing people," Edward points out, clearly frustrated.

"Well... yes... that's what an Assassin does," I patiently explain, struggling to remain calm despite the anger being to boil within me.

"You used to scream whenever I knocked someone out," Edward says disbelievingly, shaking his head with incredulity, "now you're all for it? What the Hell Tessa? I don't get you."

"How did I become the bad guy?" I demand, feeling incredibly hurt by his sudden anger and more than a little pissed that he was directing his frustrations at me - as far as I knew, I had done nothing wrong. So then why was I under attack?

"You're such a hypocrite," he growls, turning his face away and angling his body so he as far away from me as possible on the bed we currently share.

"How am I a hypocrite?" I cry, reaching for his hand only to have him pull it away.

"How is it that you can judge me for my actions as a pirate, actions which I need to do to survive but then forgive my actions as a _paid_ Assassin?" He avoids meeting my perplexed gaze but I can tell from the tone of his voice that Edward - the unreadable, sometimes emotionless, often sarcastic and flirty pirate - is hurt.

I sit there for a moment, considering his point of view and how it must have sounded when I told him to go for the Assassin contracts when, for as long as he had known me, I had always scolded him for injuring and killing men as a pirate. To be honest, I understood where he was coming from. If it were myself in his shoes and he was the one judging me for my way of life, I would be offended too and possibly incredibly aggrieved that someone I thought I trusted thought so little of me.

I was in the wrong and as a result, I had hurt him.

"I'm sorry," I apologise, my voice barely above that of a whisper, bowing my head in shame, "you're right, I'm a hypocrite. I shouldn't... I shouldn't have given you my opinion. Just forget what I said."

"Tess..." Edward sighs, turning to face me, surprised when he sees that I am climbing - although rather unsteadily - out of our cot. "Where are you going?"

"I think I should give you some space," I explain. When mine meet his steely azure-blue, I look down and study my fingers intently, trying to ignore the burning at the back of my eyes which hints that I am about to cry. There was no way I was going to burst into tears over this, it would undoubtedly make me feel worse than I already did and would most likely frustrate Edward further. "You should make this decision on your own," I whisper somewhat tearfully, sniffing slightly as the urge to cry begins to overwhelm me, "I'm sorry... it wasn't my place to tell you what to do."

"Don't apologise if you're going to cry," Edward says rather gruffly, almost as if he was defeated by the conversation - maybe it was just the fatigue wearing him down as it did me.

"But you're right. I do judge you for what you do... I judge you for surviving and... look, just because I was born as an Assassin and then trained to be a part of their Creed, doesn't mean I condone their actions. Murder is murder, even if it's done in the name of peace or survival... I suppose I'm quite black and white in regards to this topic."

"Tessa..."

"I should go," I murmur, turning on my heel in order to stride to the door but I'm prevented from going very far.

"Don't go," Edward whispers, his right hand clamped around my wrist, holding me in place. His grey eyes flicker to my face before returning his gaze to the ground, his voice rough and thick when he speaks again, "don't go."

Tugging my arm, I fall back into the open space between his legs, my hands bracing his shoulders as I steady myself. Tilting his face towards mine, he presses his warm lips to mine and immediately I respond, my hands curling into fists full of fabric at his shoulders, my mouth opening to allow his tongue to slip into my mouth and curl with mine. Like the kiss we shared on the beach, it's partially hesitant but incredibly heated - unlike the pash on the beach, I slide into to easily and my mind goes blissfully blank, simply indulging in the feeling of warmth spreading through my body and the gentleness to which Edward caresses my hair and face; tender… loving.

He lies back against the hard mattress, breaking our contact yet still keeping a hold on me. The motion pulls my body along with his so I too fall back on the bed, my legs straddling his hips, my hands flat against his chest as I lean down and resume our passionate kiss.

Again, he breaks away from me and studies my face intently, his fingers trailing down the side of my face to my cheek and finally my chin, his toughened digits coming to rest first on my neck then my shoulder. "I'm not mad at you Tess," he tells me in a whisper, inclining his head towards mine, his warm breath tickling my face, "I have no energy left to be mad at you."

"Still… I'm sorry," I say a little distractedly, my focus more concerned with the fact that his lips - those soft, addictive lips - were a mere two or three inches away from my own. My entire body begins to tremble with want and although I am disgusted with my bodies physical response to his proximity and the promise it held, my mind was slowly being consumed with the prospect of his lips returning to mine. It was a kind of hunger, a desire, that I hadn't felt for so long, not since Desmond had… had…

 _No,_ my tiny voice shrieked in complete outrage, _remember Desmond… remember your promise to him. You promised, Theresa North! You promised Desmond that you would… would…_

Would what?

I couldn't think straight, especially when Edwards' fingers resume their exploration of my figure, trailing down my shoulder to my arm then to my wrist. He then curls his fingers around my joint and pulls my hand to his lips, where the soft pads kiss the tender flesh of my palm, skimming lightly over the still-healing abrasions located there - a physical mark of my clumsiness.

"You're trembling," Edward notes, a hint of mirth evident in his tone of voice, "are you cold?"

"No," I reply; in fact, my body felt as if it was on fire.

I wanted Edward and I wanted him now.

However, I mentally and physically restrain myself, desperate to ask a question that has been plaguing my mind since that moment on the beach. "Why did you kiss me? and don't say it was a 'thank you.' No one, and I really mean no one, has ever kissed me express their appreciation before."

"Their loss," Edward chuckles, grasping my hips and flipping me onto my back in one smooth motion, my head slamming gently against the mussed sheets.

"I… don't… if you're not serious then don't kiss me," I complain, bracing his shoulders to push him away, flustered by his flirty response and my sudden position beneath him, desire coursing through my veins like liquid fire.

 _Just shove him away!_ The tiny voice yelled, the high-pitched noise ricocheting around my mind, _remember your prom-_

"Why do you want to know?" Edward asks, raising an eyebrow in mock confusion and curiosity, one hand reaching for cheek, the pad of his thumb stroking my cheekbone, "are you that desperate to know the meaning behind my actions?"

"I just-"

"I'm a pirate Tess," he grins, shrugging his strong shoulder as he does, causing my hands - which were not gripping his torso - to slid down his front, resting just above his abdomen, "I take what I like, when I like it."

"I'm not a toy," I growl, a spark of anger igniting in the pit of my stomach, "I am not _your_ toy."

"I know," he assures me, bending his head so that his lips can graze the exposed skin of my neck, the touch sending sparks shooting across my body - the good kind, the kind that made my heart flutter and my stomach do backflips and desire to coarse through my veins. "You're not even in the same league as my 'toys,'" he chuckles, raising his head once again, gazing down at me with his exquisite eyes, "you're something much better… still… you're mine."

I was burning, smouldering - there would be nothing left of me after this.

"Ed…ward?" I manage to gasp, wiggling under his feather-light touch, his fingers skimming down the length of my body.

"Yes, Theresa?"

I turn my gaze to his wicked smile, unsure exactly how proceed, how I wanted to express my desire for him. My hands trails up and down his chest until he grasps my hands in his and pulls my arms over my head, keeping them secured with one hand whilst the other continues to stroke and caress my body.

Finally, with a small sigh of realisation, knowing that I can't resist the temptation, I lock eyes with Edward and whisper, "kiss me."

0-0-0-0-0-0

 _I should stop._

Edward Kenway knew that he was walking a fine line between what was considered 'just sex' and 'sex.' Some would ask, what really was the distinction between the two?

If you were to ask Edward, he really wouldn't be able to give you a straight answer. To him, sex was… well, sex. It was fun, a great way to pass the time, to nourish one's deepest and often darkest pleasures. Like any pirate, he frequented brothels, payed for beautiful women to indulge him but unlike other pirates, he was also a married man and despite the fact that he spent time pampering his sexual appetite, he often considered himself quite loyal and devoted to his Caroline. His wife… he missed her, he would openly admit it if the fact that he was married wasn't such a 'scandal' in the pirate community, a order for free men. Marriage wasn't freedom.

Caroline… she was a beautiful, fire-haired woman with pale, alabaster skin and god was she stubborn… he'd always found that that was one of her more endearing qualities. When he'd left to pursue his dream of sailing the seas - a dream Caroline heartily disapproved off - Caroline had walked out on him, back to her parents; two people who despised Edward possibly more than anyone in the world, and he had a lot of enemies. But he had left with true intentions; the pursuit of a better life, for the _both_ of them. He just wanted them to live a happy and secure life, in a house that didn't shake with the wind or leak with the rain, where they had enough food to feed both themselves and any children they may have in the future.

He had been sick of slowly starving, of working for a pitiful wage that would barely buy them a fresh loaf of bread at the markets. His Caroline deserved a better life than that - _he_ deserved a better life than that.

Besides, they still corresponded - although, it was once or twice a year and the replies he received were often quite short but nonetheless, they stayed in contact. And what really mattered most was the fact that he stilled loved her… would always love her. Thus, his liaisons with prostitutes and courtesans were just for pleasure, purely business. Sex was sex, no emotions, no connection, just a way to pass the time until he was able to return with a bounty of gold home to his loveable wife.

But then… there was Tess.

Theresa bloody North.

How was it that this girl - no, this _woman_ \- kept drawing him and without even meaning to? Before today, before everything literally got shot to Hell, Edward was able to denounce the tingly, butterfly-like feeling he got in the pit of his stomach every time his beautiful, graceful companion smiled him. He was certain that the pull to her was in light of her sunny, warm personality that would engulf him in a tender embrace or simply it was her smile; her smile was like the sun bursting out from between storm clouds, setting the sea aglow.

It wasn't love… not even close… it was just a need to be near her, to protect her.

She was such a fragile creature despite her stubborn demeanour, stumbling along like a fawn, exploring the somewhat frightening world with large, luminescent eyes filled with innocence. He had to look after her, to keep her safe - that, he believed, would never change. Not even after finding out about her blood-drenched past; she was his.

His…

He had told her that earlier, that she belonged to him… what exactly was he thinking, saying those heartfelt, chaining words?

He just couldn't escape! She kept drawing him in with her red-gold curls that felt like water and/or silk when he ran the soft strands through his rough fingers. And then there was her eyes, two jewels that were sometimes blue-green, sometimes green-blue but always two colours, never one - eyes that reminded him strongly of the ocean; no wonder he was able to feel a sense of peace when he looked into them. Her skin - oh God, her _skin!_ \- was a pale, unblemished ivory that was soft to the touch and always seemed as if she were made of delicate china; no matter how much sun the girl received, her skin remained as clear and as pale as if she were a fine aristocratic lady living in a expensive manor in London, never directly in the sun for long.

He was falling for her. Hard.

No, screw that, he was already in love with her...

Fuck.

 _I really should stop,_ he repeated to himself as he caressed Tessa's body through her thin layer of clothes - not that he would.

One hand slips underneath her loose blouse, touching her warm, smooth stomach whilst the other holds her hands above her hand, his thumb rubbing circles into the soft, tender skin of her wrists. His feather-light touch causes Tessa to tremble, her back arching off the bed as a small whimper of pleasure escapes from between her closed, vibrant red lips.

Her closed, vibrant and dangerously kissable red lips.

Bringing his face close to hers, Edward presses his lips against the velvety surface, satisfied when Tess immediately responds, her mouth opening to allow his tongue to entwine with hers without him even encouraging the heat-filled action. Letting go of her wrists, his free hand rests on her waist, sliding up her now exposed abdomen with the other until both are resting just above her ribcage, just below her breasts where his fingers skim along the bondage holding her bosom in place.

Underneath him, she gasps, squirming in his light embrace, face flushed with chagrin - as it had for most of this evening - whilst her eyes stare at him, slightly glazed-over as if she wasn't entirely present. "We should - ah… - we should s-stop," she stutters, her eyes widening as she begins to come back down from the high of pleasure, "seriously… we sh-sh-!"

Edward doesn't let her finish, knowing when he moves his face to the curve of her neck, placing delicate kisses on the flushed skin, that it would immediately silence her. In fact, the only sound she made was a tiny gasp as he sucked heartily on her tender flesh, determined to mark her unblemished and pale flesh.

He was already starting to realise where she was most sensitive to his touch - the curve of her neck, a spot just above her collarbone, her abdomen where the waist of her pants met the frayed edge of her blouse, and last but certainly not least, her right shoulder. At that thought, he moves his face to that very spot, pushing the sleeve of her blouse of her shoulder so his lips can find the sensitive flesh, planting his airy peaks when the skin is exposed to him.

He smirks in delight when Tessa cannot stop an arousing moan from escaping her precariously kissable lips, her arms looping around his neck, her sharp nails trailing down his back.

"Yes, Theresa?" he purrs, continuing to peck at her soft, white, perfumed flesh, indulging in her varying expressions of pleasure, her face turn a shade darker each time he presses his lips to her hypersensitive skin. Watching her return to that hazy-eyed, slightly glazed-over appearance, he allows his smile to widen into what Tessa frequently told him was his devil-may-care smirk. Trailing one hand back down the length of her torso and then stomach, his fingers teasingly play across the bare skin just above the waistband of her leather pants, pleased when her breathing continues to grow shorter and heavier with desire with his continual ministrations.

Undoing the top button of her trousers, he slides his hand down her most sensitive area, over the fabric of her undergarments which were already damp from her arousal, until he reaches the ultimate source of her pleasure - her clitoris. Pressing his fingers against the sensitive bundle of nerves, he watches as her eyes - which had been fluttering closed prior to this moment - fly open, her nails raking down his back, fingers desperately clutching at the fabric of his shirt as she begins to come undone.

"— _ah_! —" Throwing back her head, Tessa is unable to keep the cry of bliss from bubbling out of her. She tried to push her thighs together, to prevent him from further pleasuring her, her face burning with embarrassment but her eyes alight with want - with _need!_

"Who knew you could make noises like that?" Edward teases, unable to resist the flushed-face, squirming girl beneath him, removing his fingers from the delicate spot only to slide that same hand beneath the dampened fabric so he could directly caress her arousal, very much aware of the tightening in his pants as he continues to satisfy himself and her.

"—Ed…ward—" she gasps as he rubbed at her clit harder, with a new-found determination she honestly didn't expect, trying to with-held the low moan building at the back of her throat and unable to prevent herself from unconsciously spreading her legs to allow him better access.

She knew she was close to unravelling under his touch.

And it appeared, so did Edward.

Deliberately and painfully slow, he gently pries her moist folds apart and presses his index into her entrance, a pleased grin working it's way across his handsome face when she jerks her hips from the intrusion.

" _Ahh!,"_ she manages to gasp out once again, thrusting her hips in time with her orgasm and his fingers, riding out her pleasure with her eyes squeezed shut, bathing in the orgasmic high that was rippling throughout her body. She arched her back, mirroring her earlier action, her body shaking with pleasure, her hips grounding against his fingers as her thighs clenched with effort.

Edward didn't stop his stimulation of her senses until she collapsed against the bed, panting with the effort, her hands falling to her side after releasing him from her strangling grip.

He would have gone further after letting her relax - by this point, his own arousal was almost unbearable - if it wasn't for the sharp knock at the cabin door.

"Captain, we're preparing to depart from Tulum," Adéwalé calls through the door, "would you prefer for me to steer or would you like to take the helm?"

They were still in Tulum? The fuck? How long then, had they been in here? Certainly not for very long if they hadn't even departed from the coast of Mexico.

Looking down at Tessa's flushed face and rising chest, mostly exposed from his lavishing of her body, he let out a low groan and forced himself out the best, trying to ignore the throbbing down south and his own needling desire to return to Tess, fuck her brains out and then move on.

No… sex with Tessa… it would have to be done right, he had a feeling that it wouldn't mean anything - and sex with her would mean EVERYTHING - if he went at it for 2, maybe 3, minutes. Waiting for Tessa to pull herself together, he unlocks the cabin door and pulls it open.

Knowing that his face was both flushed with anger and sexual frustration, he takes the opportunity to glare at his cabin mate, "for fuck's sake, Adé, could you're timing be any worse?"

"Apologies, Captian," Adéwalé says, bowing his head in forgiveness, his eyes trained on the deck, "the crew are anxious to set off and wanted you orders."

"We should have been on our way hours ago," Edward snarls.

"Edward…"

Glancing over his shoulder, his expression softens when he sees Tessa behind him at his back, her hand resting on Edward's shoulder, her touch sending a sort of calming presence tingling throughout his body - and other 'tingly' emotions but it would not do him any good to dwell on them now.

"Let's go home," she says.

Taking a deep breath, Edward nods in reply and leaves Tessa at the doorway of their cabin, his step lightening as the refreshing sea-breeze clears his mind and calms his sense further. "Okay," he agrees, shooting Tessa a smile, enjoying the way her face heats up as she recalls their steamy moment in the cabin just minutes ago, "we'll go to the Iguana first… and then onwards to Nassau."

* * *

 **A/N: sooooooo? hopefully it was good but yeah, that's up for you to decide :)**

 **So in the next chapter, Edward and Tessa return to Nassau... Edward does a little pirating... Tessa forms a new relationship with Thatch and repairs the one with Kidd... then both Edward and Tess come into contact with Vane and Calico Jack - I wonder what the two of them make of these two notorious pirates - and plot with the two of them and Thatch to score some riches...**

 **well... that's the plan anyway :)**


	18. Chapter 16

**A/N: So... chapter 16 is finally here and I'm starting to think that another fan fiction could be in the works - I can handle two right? Anyways, enjoy this chapter! I did leave a potential plot at the end of the last, but things kinda changed as I wrote - although, I think the direction I took was a lot nicer :)**

 **\- AshTree13 xx**

* * *

 **Chapter 16:**

It was almost the new year.

Sun streamed out from in-between the soft, white clouds floating in the crystal blue sky, heralded along like sheep on a gentle sea-breeze. People - prostitutes, merchants, pirates; Nassau doesn't discriminate - strolled along the beachside and up to the small pirate village, some locked in conversation, others exchanging currency for a variety of wares up for sale at the endless merchant stalls.

At least, that's how I picture the scene.

Instead of bartering with men at the market stalls, collecting purchases and attempting to balance the always-too-heavy load equally in my arms, I am lying atop the lumpy mattress of my lodgings with the coarse cotton sheets sticking to my sweat-slicked skin, hacking up my lungs.

Up until an hour ago, I was wandering the Nassau streets seeking a remedy for the persistent tickle that had clung to me for almost a week. My unsteady legs, clad in knee-length leather boots, had trotted daintily along the uneven road whilst the world spun, the edges of my vision blurred and my head pounded with the beginnings of a strong migraine. The entire trip was an effort and in the end I didn't even make it half-way; the tree-roots and pebbles lining the dirt path made my already uneven strides perilous and despite the conscious knowledge of the pain that would result if I fell, I still managed to trip and nearly face plant the ground.

If I hadn't been passing the Old Avery Tavern at the time, I was sure I would've found it incredibly difficult to make it back to the relative safety of my room. Crawling wouldn't have been very effective - and it wasn't exactly safe to collapse in the middle of a street run by pirates who were known for breaking the rules and indulging in depravity.

"Thanks for taking me back," I croak after the coughing session burns the back of my throat, my eyes seeking out my saviour.

"Couldn't just leave you," Edward Thatch, otherwise known as Blackbeard, one of the most fearsome and notorious pirates roaming the waters of the Caribbean, says to me, moving to replace the warm rag that currently lies across my flushed, heated forehead. "What would Kenway say, if he learnt of your collapsing and my not helping you?" The dark-haired pirate continues, dipping his hands into the bucket of ice situated by my bedside, fishing out a fresh rag from its' depths, "I would lose the respect I command from him."

"I don't think you need to go this far," I weakly chuckle, sighing in relief when the refreshing cloth touches my skin.

"Well… I could use the poultice suggested by the doctor-"

"If you even think of putting that nasty stuff on my body, I will end you," I snarl only to launch into a fit of coughing as a result.

"Like you could," Thatch answers, amusement clear on his face.

"Just… just keep my temperature down," I mutter, shifting uncomfortably underneath the coarse sheets that stick to my skin, groaning as I shift onto my side and bury my face into my rock-hard pillow.

"Yes, you're majesty."

"And get rid of the sarcasm," I snap, moaning when my head begins to pound, reminding me of my currently prone state; a product/complication of my cold.

"Who would I be without sarcasm?" Thatch replies, struggling to contain the smile curling his lips, mirth twinkling in his black eyes.

"A gentleman? Polite? Not an asshole?" I suggest huskily, coughing delicately into my hand, my face twisting with disgust as I wipe the phlegm hacked out of my throat on the handkerchief Thatch had earlier lent me. "I hate being sick," I continue with a whine, rolling back onto my back, fighting the urge to rip off the sweat-soaked blankets, aware that it was the fever keeping my temperature running at a permeate high but that there was a possibility that my body would eventually be reduced to chills.

"Everyone hates being sick," Thatch points out.

"It's not exactly a nice feeling," I agree, "my head feels as if it's about to explode, my throat is killing me and this persistent tickle isn't making it any better…" as if to reaffirm this fact, that very same tickle begins to irritate the back of my oesophagus with a new-found determination that has me sitting upright, unable to contain the building coughs that shake my entire form.

Thatch leans over and pats my back, a slight look of anxiousness crossing his face as my coughing fit continues with no end in sight. "I should grab the doctor-" he starts, already rising to his feet as he does.

"No," I cut in, slightly out of breath, my words coming out as a distinguishable wheeze, "no… I don't… don't need the doctor."

"God, you're stubborn," Thatch groans, settling back into his chair, once again replacing the already warm towel with one that is as cold as the melting ice in the bucket by the bedside.

"It's my most endearing quality," I sarcastically reply.

"You sound like a duck," Thatch suddenly informs me after a brief pause in the conversation, laughing at the distinctly horrified expression that forms upon my face.

"I do not!" I screech - something I immediately regret the moment my throat burns from the sudden increase in volume. Using the remainder of my strength, I reach for the spare pillow atop my bed and hurl it as hard as I can at the chuckling pirate, vengeance in my eyes.

"Who knew that the kitty had claws."

"You're… you're _insufferable!"_ Exhausted from my previous efforts, I collapse against the pillow and lumpy mattress that made my bed, ignoring the shakes that begin to tear through my body as I feel my temperature rapidly drop, gently massaging my throbbing temples.

"Couldn't have said it better myself, Tess," a voice, to which I was very well accustomed too, injects prior to Thatch's reply.

"Oi, you need to learn to respect your elders, Kenway," Thatch snorts, watching with his hawk-like eyes the blonde-haired man of the same name close the door, unhook his rapiers and pistols, placing them with surprising gentleness atop the dresser so the fine metal barely makes a sound upon contact with the wood.

Making his way toward my beside, Edward kicks out Thatch out from under his chair, smirking as the usually coordinated dark-haired man tumbles to the dusty floor, the chair falling on top of him. Seeing my wide-eyed stare, Edward chuckles lightly under his breath and proceeds to take my hand, settling himself at the edge of my bed, his azure-blue eyes raking over my body with concern evident in his gaze. "He's not hurt," he assures me, touching my forehead with his wonderfully cold hands - the sensation is so relieving that my eyes flutter close at his touch - a frown now appearing on his handsome face, "you have a fever... haven't you asked for a doctor yet, Thatch?"

"Do you think I'm blind Kenway?" Thatch grunts from the floor, slowly getting to his feet and dusting himself off, "of course I called for the goddamn doctor. She fainted in the middle of the fucking street, after all."

"Then why hasn't her fever broken? I know she's been bedridden for a few days now!"

"Ask her, she's the stubborn patient who won't take the doctors advice," Thatch says indignantly.

At that, both men turn to face me with noticeable frowns marring their expressions and glares clearly plastered across their face.

"It's just a cold," I mumble, embarrassed by the sudden care and attention I was receiving at the hands of these two usually threatening men.

Edward releases my hand and folds his arms over his chest, looking down at me in what was a somewhat comically exasperated expression, his head shaking from side-to-side, voicing his disapproval without having to actually be vocal. "Gods, I really can't leave you alone for a couple of weeks can I, Tess?" he says with an affectionate smile and soft laugh, unfurling his arms once more to push back my hair which is stuck to my sweat-slicked skin.

"Then don't leave," I suggest sarcastically, rolling my eyes as I do, but I really do mean it - I don't want to be without him again, particularly for an extended period of time. You see, without Edward, my days were surprisingly lonesome and monotonous - there was nothing that could be labelled as particularly 'fun' for a woman here in Nassau. Books weren't as available her as they were in my time, so even my favourite past-time was ruled out - I managed to get my hands on a couple of novels; my favourite so far being The New Atalantis, which had apparently been quite a scandalous read when first published; and another, A Tale of a Tub which was quite a lengthy read about religion - I knew the author, had read his later book Gulliver's Travels with Shaun as a small child and decided that if I couldn't get my hands on his most famous publication (that is, most famous in my personal opinion) then I would attempt to work my way through his prose work about Christianity. But I had finished both in a couple of days and time was ever increasingly slowing down, torturing me with Edward's absence and my own boredom.

Working at the Old Avery Tavern had been… well… in a word, interesting - there were a great many fascinating characters who roamed the old bar, swigging tall pitchers of rum, drunkly singing and dancing along to Bessie's - the performer at the tavern - musical talents, all the while preoccupied by the endless scores of 'loose' women and tales of their high-sea adventures.

It had been fun.

But it wasn't challenging enough to capture my attention and the days soon returned to my tedious, companionless routine filled with nothing but tiresome chores, an attempt to keep myself busy and active.

"I'm not going anywhere until you're better," Edward promises me, pecking my forehead - immediately, I am assaulted by his familiar scent of gunpowder, sea-salt and… well, Edward. The familiarity of it all causes my heart to flutter and my already flushed cheeks to burn, especially when I catch Thatch's amused expression over Edward's shoulder.

"I'll leave the rest to you, Kenway," Thatch decides, grabbing his black Captain's hat with it's luscious black feather, sitting it atop his head where it stands proud as a mark of his captainship, "look after yourself, Lass."

"Thanks, Thatch," I whisper, turning to my side and offering the man a small smile, "I really owe you one."

"Don't mention it, Lass," Thatch dismisses with a hearty laugh, coming round Edward's side and leaning over me in order to tousle my already chaotic hair, his hands surprisingly gently as he pats my cheek, "take care of yourself… be a shame if a pretty thing like you were to never recover from this."

"Thatch…" Edward warns, glaring up at his mentor.

"What? She is a pretty thing, I mean… she normally is, if her nose wasn't so red with the cold and if her hair had been brushed recently-"

"Thatch-"

"Please stop," I moan, throwing the sheets over my head in an attempt to block out the remainder of this conversation.

"With that pretty, heart-shaped face and those gorgeous green eyes, she's a real-"

"If you finish that sentence, I will shoot you with one of my pistols," Edward growls, "they're not very far, just a stride away and fully loaded."

"Okay, okay," Thatch laughs, raising his hands before him, the picture of surrender.

"Weren't you leaving?"

"Good point," Thatch winks, sweeping his hat off his head as he bends into a mock bow, "good day, my friends." With that, the formidable Edward Thatch, captain of the Queen Anne's Revenge disappears from the lodge and I am left to deal with a slightly agitated Edward Kenway on my own.

Wonderful.

"Is he gone?" I mumble, throwing the sheets back off my head, watching Edward with my heavy-lidded eyes, exhaustion beginning to take a hold me.

"Yeah," Edward sighs, picking up the cloth - which I had noticed was no longer plastered across my forehead - off the ground, dipping it into the ice-cold water that was once a bucket of ice, concentration illuminating his handsome face.

"So..." I croak, attempting a weak smile, "how was Kingston?"

"Fine… busy," Edward replies, sitting up right and pushing back my hair so the cloth can lie directly across my forehead, cooling my heated skin, the condensation trickling down the back of my neck. However, I can barely resister this as I'm distracted instead by the mirth twinkling in his grey-blue eyes, my fever-induced brain urging me to memorise each and every aspect of his face, committing it to my hazy memory. A feeling of peace and contentment settles over me as the man begins to fuss over me, tucking me into the white, gauzy sheets and I can't help but smile at his unnecessary concern over my well being.

What can I say? It feels nice... being taken care of.

"You need to rest," Edward informs me gently, again pressing his lips to my forehead before moving them to my lips. Not so much to my surprise, I automatically respond to Edward's sensual touch, allowing his tongue to slip into my mouth and twine with mine, indulging in the sensations of pleasure rippling throughout my body at the action. Just as I move my trembling arms so to curl my fingers in his blonde hair, Edward pulls away and gazes down at me with an eyebrow arched and an expression which could only be described as amusement. With a smile and a soft chuckle rumbling from the depths of his chest, he tells me, "that's not rest, Tess," before removing himself from the bed and heading towards the dresser.

"You started it," I complain, covering my mouth with my arm as I cough, that accursed tickle rearing it's ugly head once more, feeling the comforting warmth Edward's presence had given slipping away.

"And now I'm ending it."

"What are you doing?" I wonder aloud, curiosity drawing my attention to the small velvet bag in his hands and the strange, brown substance that comes out of it.

"I'm going to give this to a doctor and get him to make up a tonic for you."

"What is that?" I persist, struggling to sit upright so I can study the brown, shredded stuff which kind of resembles bark and the pale, green-white 'flowers' that are embedded in the mix, more than a little apprehensive of the strange herb? flower? let's just go with mystery.

"Dogwood."

"Dogwood?"

"It's a tropical tree… it's bark apparently is good for settling coughs and reducing fevers," Edward explains, returning what I now know is bark to the safety of its pouch, "brought it at Kidd's suggestion."

"Kidd's?! When the hell did you run into Kidd?"

"Tess? Are you okay? Do I need to get a doctor?," Edward asks in concern, taking a hesitant step towards me as my exclamation leads me into a coughing fit. Its' a strong one; one that shakes my entire body with earth-shattering coughs, burning my lungs and the back of my throat, tears prickling the corners of my eyes as the pain begins to overwhelm me.

"I'm fine," I croak.

"Tess…"

"I'm fine," I repeat, a little firmer, lying back on the cot, "please continue."

"… He was at the pier," Edward eventually resumes, his eyes never leaving mine despite the fact that his attention is divided between me and the process of reattaching his rapiers to his belt, and returning his two pistols to their holsters, "he was waiting for me to dock. Apparently, Thatch had asked him to keep an eye out for my return… he was worried, Tess. Wanted me to send him a message the moment you got better."

"I can't believe you've already forgiven him."

"Hard to stay mad at the guy who's paying me good money to carry out his mission," Edward points out, striding towards me with careful steps as if he were approaching a wild animal, "perhaps you should forgive-"

"No."

"Tess-"

"No!" I stubbornly insist, looking at my pirate with wide green-blue eyes hoping to convey my displeasure with the very idea, "he's got to apologise first."

"He said the same thing, you know? He said, and I quote, 'I will apologise when _she_ apologises to me.'" Edward groans, flopping onto my bed with a deep, regretful sight, "God, you two act like five year olds… what did I do to deserve being dragged into this mess?"

"I could write you a list, if you'd like?" I offer sarcastically with a familiar roll of my eyes.

"Ha ha, very funny."

"I try," I sigh longingly, turning onto my side so I could see his face better, smiling when I find that his are already turned to mine, those azure eyes studying me with an intensity I had yet to fathom.

"I need to go," he tells me, preparing to launch himself off the bed again and out the door.

"No!"

"Tess?" his eyes widen and drift down to where my hands clutch desperately at his sleeve, keeping him from moving away, forcing him to remain here, by my side.

"Don't go…" I plead at a whisper, unable to look him in the eye - I hate appearing weak to him, but I couldn't fathom how I was to let him go again after not being with him for weeks. I was addicted to his scent, to his smile, to his laugh… I could not go without it any longer. "Please," I continue, my voice so soft I have little doubt in my mind that Edwards' ears are straining to pick up each and every word, "please don't go… stay until I fall asleep… please…"

"You'll go to sleep, right? No arguments?"

"Yes," I nod, finally lifting my eyes to meet his.

"Okay."

Enveloping my body in his strong arms, Edward draws me to his chest and begins to comb his fingers through my knotted hair, as he often does. HIs familiar actions are soothing and I already find myself giving up to the exhaustion that has haunted me for most of the day, my eyes slowly drifting to a close. Letting out a deep sigh, I curl my fingers into soft fists that rest against his chest, my face nuzzled into the crook of his chest breathing in his delightful scent.

Fitted against his body and listening to the soft tune of a lullaby which Edward hums, I fall into sleep as my body so craves, a smile pasted across my face.

0-0-0-0-0-0

The Old Avery Tavern was particularly rowdy this cool new year.

It seemed, to Edward, that pirates all across the Caribbean had swarmed to Nassau's safe harbours for the beginning of the new year, indulging in the finest pleasures Nassau could offer - endless flagons of rum and very willing, incredibly entertaining women of all shapes and sizes.

If there was a time to sate your pleasures, this would be it.

If there was a time to drown your sorrows, now was the time.

Fiddling with the rim of his pitcher of rum, Edward grapes the cup firmly and swallows the final gulp of the brown-orange liquid, the alcohol burning a somewhat pleasant path down his throat, a fierce desire to forget what had occurred moments ago driving him to ask the familiar barman for yet another refill.

Yet, no matter how much he seemed to drink - and he was on about his fourth round - he couldn't forget those damning words that had wormed their way out of Tessa's rosy lips.

And he couldn't stop wondering if she meant what she had said.

In her defence, Tess had been pretty much unconscious, lost in dreams that Edward hoped were as innocent and as pure as she; after all, if she were to have nightmares, he would blame himself… who wouldn't, if they were as sweet and delicate as her? He had come to understand that perhaps Tessa did not belong in his world, but he was too addicted to her to set her free - selfish, he knew he was, yet that didn't change anything (at least, not to him.)

Despite her raging fever, which was starting to settle - to his relief - she had slept on peacefully, her head tucked against the crook of his neck, resting her cheek against his shoulder, her hands curled into gentle fists against his chest. Her rosy lips were barely open, just wide enough for her to take a deep breath in and another out, her breaths surprising evenly despite the racing of her heart and the condensation glistening atop her skin. It was in this state of complete relaxation and innocence that she uttered the words that hurt more than he knew possible.

 _Desmond… I love you…_

He couldn't get those five syllables out of his goddamn head - they whispered menacingly into his ear, only momentarily dulled by the strong alcohol beginning to overthrow his senses.

He needed another drink. He needed another three… or maybe five.

"So… this is the new Libertalia, eh?"

Edward wasn't particularly sure what it was about these two men that made him look up from his cup; perhaps it was the fact that it was a distraction from his somewhat depressing thoughts, maybe it was the strong sense of distaste reverberating in his voice that made him stop and stare… maybe it was the alcohol urging him into a fight. Either way, he was interested in what these men, these pirates, he to say about his… his home.

"Stinks the same as every other squat I've robbed this past year," the stranger - although, he was somewhat familiar - continues, hand braced on his hips, steps heavy as if weighed at the heel of his supple-leather boots. His lined face creases further in disgust as he survey's the scene of the Old Avery Tavern, nose crinkled in distaste as he watched the other men whore and drink themselves into a stupor.

 _Stuck up Git,_ Edward thoughts, fiddling with the rim of his drink, a tiny smile flittering across his face as he comes to recognise the odd man.

At that moment, the first mans companion catches Edward's eye and the smile curling his lips. Coming to halt just a metre or two away from his tail, his grey eyes narrow in distrust. Obviously deciding that a cocky approach was best, the man tilts his head slightly to the left and says, "why the long face? You falling in love?"

 _You have no idea how right you are_ , Edward thought, surprised by the pain that erupted in his chest at those words.

"With your blouse," Edward replies, with a shrug of his shoulder and a salute with his rum. Getting to his feet, the distinct screech of his chair halting the man who had addressed him mid-stride, Edward puts on a carefree smile and welcoming air.

"You're welcome to Nassau, Gents… everyone is that does their fair share."

"Fair share?" The darker one inquires, his eyes disbelieving, "what is this? A fucking monastery?"

"We," the other states, "were led to believe Nassau was a place where Men did as they pleased… ain't that our Creed?"

"Save keeping other from doing the same, aye."

All three turned to face Edward Thatch, obviously the most dominating figure to walk Nassau's shores and sail the Caribbean seas, a man who deserved complete respect, as he strode into then Old Avery, a petite figure at his side.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Edward found himself asking, his grey eyes studying Tessa North's still flushed, heart-shaped face with concern, his heart tightening as he gazed upon the beautiful woman.

She had finally tackled the mess that had been her hair; the red-gold locks now hung down her back in a neat ponytail, the curls falling to her waist in a sleek curtain of fire, held in place by a navy ribbon. She had thrown on a fresh blouse, a leather corset forcing her already slender waist to be thiner and somehow pleasing to the eye, fresh leather pants emphasising her slender legs which seemed to go on for days and she had pulled on her favourite pair of leather boots, the silver buckles glinting under the dull lightening.

She was incredibly attractive and heartbreaking to see.

"I was feeling better," she explains with a small, rosy-lipped smile, her green-blue eyes drinking him in, "and I ran into Thatch, who suggested you may be at the pub… so I took some of the medicine you left and headed over."

"You took the medicine?"

"It was incredibly disgusting," she confirms with a delicate shudder, "one would think you chose this particular plant just to torment me with the taste."

"Yes… well…" he wasn't sure how to answer, he couldn't even look her directly in the eye, her earlier confession tormenting him once again.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," he answers, a little too quickly for her liking.

"Edward…"

"Captain Thatch," the red coated pirate interrupts, "as I live and breath… didn't think such a fine woman would be at your side…"

"She ain't mine," Thatch says, offering the girl a lofty grin, "she's Kenway's, she'll deny that she is though."

"I'm not anyone's, Thatch," Tessa huffs, folding her willowy arms over her chest, her eyes narrowed in a playful glare, "a woman isn't a piece of property."

Thatch waves his hand in careless dismissal.

"No woman… but a magnificent muzzle instead cultivated…"

"Why fly a black flag when a black beard will do?" Thatch asks, taking a swig out of his bottle of rum, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips, "what brings you two gents this far North?"

"Does every goddamn pirate in this colony know one another?" Tess demands, her head cocked to one side in curiosity. The action distinctly reminded Edward of a inquisitive cat, a thought that made him softly smile.

"Tess," Edward introduces, nodding at the pair, "the man with the scruff and red accented coat, looking all self-important and shit is Captain Charles Vane."

"Self-important?" Vane asks, mildly amused by Edward's choice of words.

"And I assume the other is his quartermaster," he continues, ignoring Vane entirely, "although, I do not-"

"Jack Rackham, love," the other pirate interrupts, reaching for Tess's petite, pale hand, drawing it to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on the smooth skin, "pleasure."

"Okay…" Tessa says, drawing her hand back, "nice to, uh, meet you."

"I won't ask again, boys," Thatch adds, his deep voice immediately drawing the small groups attention, "but what is it that you are looking for?"

"The word is the Cuban Governor himself is fixing to receive a mess of gold from a nearby fort," Vane explains, grabbing the bottle of rum Edward had left carelessly on his now vacant table, "until then, it's just sitting there," he smiles a greedy, devil-may-care grin, "itching to be took."

"Governor Torres?" Tess asks.

"You know him?"

"Something like that," the girl mutters under her breath, leaning against the roped railing of the Public house, her shoulder pressed against Edward's as she does.

"Sounds promising," Kenway murmurs, turning his head to press a kiss against Tess's head, aware that the mere thought of going up against Torres once again terrified the young woman, particularly when the memories of the prison ship still haunted her nightmares.

The action causes her to stiffen involuntary with surprise. He had to admit that it was a little unexpected but it was done with good intentions, and to demonstrate to the men - particularly Packham - that were eying her with interest that she was his. However, she almost imeadiately relaxes and curls her body against his, resting her head against his chest. "I'm glad that you're not angry," she whispers.

"I was never angry, Tess," he assures the girl, reaching an arm around her shoulder, playing with the ends of her hair, "I was just…"

"Just?"

"Never-mind."

"You thinking of going for gold?" Thatch asks Edward in a low tone, his eyes sharp. At Edward's barely noticeable nod, the two of them share a knowing smile.

"Welcome to Nassau, Captain Vane, Mister Rackham," Thatch then states, holding out a bottle of rum to the pair as Edward looks on, one arm around the shoulders of his girl, a frown marring his face as a full-proof, ambitious plan begins to take form.


	19. Chapter 17

**A/N: Long time no update my lovelies... so, apologies for that. A number of problems arose over the pass few weeks that I needed to deal with prior to the uploading of this chapter and unfortunately that took precedence - the first being my graduation from high school... that was a very long, fun but sad event that unfortunately was very time consuming. The second being the arrival of school holidays and work for me, which meant little time for chapter writing and for study which is unfortunately *sigh* is more important at the moment than my fan fiction. The last reason for my lack of progress is that I have been quite sick over the past few weeks and have only just started getting better - who knew that the common cold could be so destructive to my health and daily schedule!**

 **I will do my best to keep my updates regular but as my finals approach, study is unfortunately more important which may mean in more delays, so I apologise profusely in the hopes that you all forgive me and enjoy the next instalment of Down the Rabbit Hole.**

 **-AshTree13 xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 17:**

Fort Matías burned.

It was almost as if the sea itself was on fire.

The raging flames that engulfed the once proud, heavily fortified garrison in its deadly grasp, illuminated the dark blue waves of the ocean, already dyed a soft red-gold due to the rising suns' rays.

Despite my bodys' close proximity to the flames, I find myself shivering as a cool breeze whispers around the collapsed ruins of the fort. It is not only the returning nights' atmosphere which causes goosebumps to appear on my pale skin; it is a combination of frigid air and what I assume is post traumatic stress disorder as I recall the details of my previous encounter with the occupants of this esteemed fort. Wrapping my leather-clad arms around my torso, I glance over my shoulder to watch Edward and his crew storm the war room of Fort Matías - a stoned, gray and almost circular room with one passage leading to what was without a doubt, the treasure room; the only other route for escape, besides the narrow windows which overlook a sharp cliff-face and rough seas, is the heavy, almost ancient-looking wooden doors from which Edward had paraded through.

We have him right where we want him… but Edward too is enclosed in a small, contained space and it is that little nugget of information which causes my nerves to bubble and boil in the pit of my stomach.

"Your excellency," Edward sneers, raising both his arms in a somewhat welcoming gesture, unabashed by the answering sound of silver being swiftly drawn from their scabbards.

In the Spanish Soldier's defence, Edward was heavily armed - as were the numerous members of the Jackdaw's crew, including its faithful quartermaster, who followed in their captain's suit. It was a perfectly reasonable course of action for the men to draw their blades and ready their own defence, particularly when the jewel of Edwards' eye was something incredibly important and influential in the governing of the Caribbean Colonies, particularly those of the Cuban coast.

"I know your face, pirate," comes a lightly accented voice that, despite my hearing it only once, I could never forget.

Removing my sharp gaze from Edward's back, my eyes travel to the man who condemned me to a near-death at sea, sitting straight-backed and unafraid of the armed pirate before him, lording over the minuscule, cramped room and its bounty with his usual and distinct air of superiority. Governor Torres of Cuba leans forward in his plush, embroidered chair, resting his chin atop his wizened, tanned hands clasped before his thin, willowy form. Cool eyes survey Edwards' every movement, flickering occasionally to the other pirates loitering about the room before coming to rest upon my face.

For a brief moment - which felt to me as if it had lasted hours - Torres's cold eyes study my face with a mixed expression of cool amusement and intrigue, before slowly returning his sharp gaze to Edward's handsome and bloodied face. "But," Torres continues in a light, somewhat conversational tone as if Edward and him were merely sharing a light tea instead of grappling with Edward for his life, "your name was borrowed the last time we spoke."

"Ah, yes… I do recall," Edward contemplates, striding the length of the table lying before Torres, it's smooth surface laid down by bags and mountains of luminous, desirous gold, "mister Duncan Walpole, was it?"

He glances over at me for confirmation.

I nod.

"I miss that one," Edward sighs, shaking his in mock disappointment.

I almost smile at the notable sarcasm.

"So…" Edward continues, reaching for a single gold reales, pushing the large coin down the length of the table before colliding it with another few medallions, letting the gold fall to the stone ground; his eyes never leave Torres despite his actions. "What's a Templar Grand Master doing so far from his Castillo?"

"I'd rather not say," Torres answer, reaching for his cup of still-warm tea and taking a long, exaggerated sip of the amber liquid.

"And I'd rather not cut your lips off and fed 'em to you," Edward snarls in response, bracing the desk with both of his calloused hands, leaning forward so his face is close to Torres. There is no joke lacing these threat-filled words; Edward's face is a mask of pure loathing for the man sitting before him, blackmail is clearly his method of choice in this situation .

With a look of mild shock and concern - for his own safety, no doubt - Torres replaces the china cup to the lined tables surface, his grey eyes watching Edward with a similar hawk-like intensity my own gaze shares.

It's obvious he's testing to Edward to see the seriousness of his claim.

"Answer him," I say, speaking up for the first time since this meeting had come into play, "it will benefit you far more if you do."

Edward glances over his shoulder at me in surprise but I only catch a glimpse of those inquisitive azure eyes as I turn away to watch the blood-red ocean once more.

"Two years ago… shortly after your 'visit'," I hear Torres disclose, evidently taking my advice to heart, "we offered a reward for the Sage's Recapture… and today, it seems that someone claims to have found him. This gold," I can picture Torres gesturing to the endless wealth sitting before him, itching to be taken, "is his ransom."

"Who found him?"

There is no answer.

Fed up with Torres's reluctance in answering Edward's quite simple and in my opinion, reasonable, enquires, I find myself turning sharply on my heel and marching into the frigid war room. I am barely conscious of the fact that I draw one of my silver knives, striding past Adéwalé's mountainous form and Edward's lean, tense body before any of them can fully absorb the knowledge that I have left my post by the doors. Leaning my own willowy form across the desk's gold laden surface, I point the tip of the minuscule blade against Torres's wrinkled throat and patiently wait for the man in question to register my presence and the obvious threat I hold in my surprisingly steady hands. Starting forward, Torres flinches as the blade casually pricks the skin of his tanned throat, easily breaking the flesh which in turn causes a tiny bead of blood to wheal at the wound sight and dribble down the length of his jugular.

"I'm getting real tired of your shit," I mutter, gradually raising my head so my eyes eventually fall upon his worn face, "so answer Edward's question or I'll make sure his earlier threat is carried through… besides, last time I checked, I owe you for your mistreatment of my comrade and I all those years ago… remember that, Torres?"

"I do indeed," the man replies, his scrutiny of me amazingly steady despite the situation he had found himself in - this man was hard to break, I had to give him that. "You've changed, child," he notes with a subtle glare as if that fact heavily displeased him.

"You're right," I acknowledge with a small nod of agreement, "I have changed… I'm not scared of you."

"Tess," Edward whispers, placing a hand on the small of my back, the touch meant to calm and restrain me.

"Then you should stop shaking, my dear."

Biting my lip, I steady my trembling hands and defiantly raise my chin, daring Torres to make a move against me or Edward, whether that be a physical or oral attack.

"Do not speak to her like that, scum!" Edward growls, pressing closer to me as if to defend me from Torres's scrutiny, his grey-blue eyes narrowed in what could only be described as the purest resentment and loathing.

"It was a slaver by the name of Laurens Prins," Torres eventually concedes, clearly deciding that answering us was indeed the best course of action - this is probably due to Edward's threats and the knife pressed against one of the most important veins of his body, in which one cut and little to no attention would ultimately result in an early grave, "he lives in Kingston."

"Excellent," I answer in a falsely cheerful voice, removing my blade from his neck.

Edward fails in hiding his excited grin - obviously pleased that we were finally making a headway in both this conversation and his mission to track down the Observatory - and glances over at Adé, inclining his head in a silent enquiry of Torres's report.

The dark-skinned quartermaster nods in return and returns his silver pistol to the safety of its' holster, an action which many of the other crewmen follow, a soft chuckle echoing around the room.

"We like this story, Torres," Edward informs the greying man, watching as I prop myself up onto Torres' desk, combing my fingers through my red-gold curls as I release the dark, chaotic ponytail, his expression mildly amused and most certainly, undeniably pleased. His fingers catch a strand of hair - as I knew he would - before returning to the awaiting pile of gold, his digits running over the unscripted surfaces with an almost tender touch. Reaching for the china pot - steam still curling from the teapots spout - he offers me a cup of tea, which I immediately decline with a quick shake of my head, before pouring himself a cup and raising it in mock honour of the man before the two of us, "we want to help you finish it… but, you see, we're going to do it our way."

Pausing, Edward takes a hearty swig of the tea, sighing in satisfaction as the lukewarm liquid quenches his thirst. "Using you," Edward continues, inclining his head towards the displeased and no doubt frustrated old man, "and your gold."

"I think you mean _our_ gold, Edward," I correct, snatching the teacup from Edward's usually nimble hands and draining the last few drops, a smile caressing my lips.

"Too right you are, my dear. _Our_ gold."

Some time passes after this and I find myself in the courtyard of the smouldering fort, arms folded across my chest, watching the notorious black flag of the pirates flutter lazily in the sea-breeze rising off the oceans of the Eastern Cuban Coast, casually noting to no one - but someone - in particular the removal of the Garrisons Spanish Flag for one of such notoriety.

Edward sidles up next to me, reaching for and successfully obtaining one of my hands which he carefully examines with sharp, crystal-blue eyes which, as they always do, cut my breath short and catch me in their studious gaze. "I noticed it early," he murmured, examining the fair skin of my palm, "the burn on the palm of your hands… how did this happen? Does it hurt?"

"You're concern is beginning to worry me, Edward."

"Don't joke about your own injuries," he argues, tugging my arm so I lose my footing and fall forward into his waiting arms, his face inches from me for a few silent, heated moments before returning to his exploration of the red, non-blistered skin. "Seriously," he continues in a softer tone of voice, his lips pressing against the heated skin, "does it hurt when I touch it?"

"It's a burn, of course it hurts," I say incredulously, flinching away from his hesitant touch.

"You weren't concerned about it prior to now."

"I wasn't really aware of any bodily harm until now," I reply incredulously, whimpering when Edwards' fingers lightly graze the first-degree burns' surface. "Ow," I moan, trying to pull my hand away but as always, his grip remains firm.

"It doesn't look too bad… some cool water or ice should help slow any swelling," he mutters, ignoring my cry of pain in favour of examining the inflamed skin with a kind of gentleness which hints at previous experience dealing with burns.

It shouldn't surprise me that Edward had some knowledge of injuries; he had been a pirate and a privateer for as long as I was aware of his life upon the high-seas and I was certain that every now and then he would have had to face injuries of varying seriousness. His earlier treatment of my fever should have been some indication to a small amount of medical knowledge, although, I wasn't sure how extensive this knowledge and I was sure that it was incredibly lacking in modern healing techniques that I was familiar with.

"Ummm… are you going to let go of my hand now?" I enquire, giving it another painful tug that fails to seek the release I was desperately hoping for.

"How about your fever?" Edward then questions, throwing the query at me out of the blue.

"Fine, Edward, I'm fine."

"You're absolutely-"

"Edward," I interrupt, finally managing to weasel my hand out of his tight grasp, my face crinkling into a tiny smile of amusement as I seek to reassure the paranoid man, "I told you, I'm fine."

"I…"

"Thank you for worrying," I tell him, touching his cheek with the hand that was uninjured, "but you need to stop thinking about me and consider our next move… I assume it will include dragging Torres, hopefully bound in chains, to Kingston in order to seek out this Prins character."

"Something like that," Edward chuckles in response, wrapping his arms around my body in a gentle, very-much-welcome embrace which I instantly snuggle into, breathing in his delicious scent marred only by the smoke residue clinging to the wind and the faint but unmistakable cologne of rusting blood.

"Hey… wasn't Prins that slaver-"

"Back in Tulum?" Edward finishes and I feel him nodding his head slowly as the name spurs some sort of recollection, "thought the name rang a bell. Yeah, he was the one that Kidd got so worked up over not being able to catch. Ironic that he happens to come into the equation yet again, no? It seems like no matter what, our fates are to be tied with that of the Assassins…"

"It's your own fault for pursuing the Observatory," I point out, giggling at the depressed and what could only be noted as a 'kicked puppy' expression that etches itself onto Edwards' face.

"And here I thought you supported my somewhat crazy and possibly delusional dream."

"Just remember, you're the one who pointed out that the Observatory is an unrealistic fairytale."

"Cruel," he grunts, pressing a kiss to my forehead, "you are a cruel, merciless woman…"

"That's new," I chuckle, amused by Edwards' description, one which I would never have thought would ever be associated with me.

With a loud groan, Edward pushes me away from the warm of his body only to then grasp both of my wrists in his usual steel grip, spinning my body so my back crashes instead against his chest and my face is looking out to the ocean and the marooned Jackdaw. The vessel gently rocks in the breeze as men clamber aboard the vessel which is once again singing to life with a renewed vigour, the notable figure of Adéwalé easily distinguishable amongst the faces of such, as he would put it, 'fairness,' barking orders to each member of the crew as he prepares the Jackdaw for its' new mission.

"Edward, should we-" the words catch in my throat as I feel the notable touch of Edwards' lips against my skin, my cheeks burning in embarrassment as the soft pads whisper across the back of my neck and along my collarbone.

"You are a cruel woman," he repeats in a low, husky voice, his teeth grazing the shell of my ear as he murmurs those words into my auditory canal. He loosens his grip on one of my wrists, using the free hand to first trace my shoulder, then my back before resting on my waist, causing goosebumps of a different kind to raise my milky-white skin which is slowly turning a deep, bashful red.

"This-um-ugh…"

 _Damnit! He really does know how to shut me up!_ I think, irritated at my speech incapability when Edward teased me like this - and considering the fact that this form of teasing was happen more and more frequently, I was undoubtedly frustrated with myself continuously. Despite this internal struggle with my own subconscious, I am incredibly reluctant to pull away and tell him to stop, simply because his gentle and knowing caresses of my body just feel so good. Somehow, I manage to pull myself away, clear my throat and awkwardly jerk my thumb at the Jackdaw which was undoubtedly awaiting its' captains' return to deck and the helm.

"We should… we should head back to the ship," I croak, unable to look him squarely in the eyes as I say this - _Fuck it, I am such a coward after situations like these but in saying that, how the Hell am I supposed to respond after effectively being 'turned on' by just a few touches and kisses. God, Theresa, you are so weak-willed when it comes to this shit._..

"Right… yes… ship," Edward mutters in a similarly distracted manner, his eyes slightly glazed as he looks over at his ship as if he can't quite remember as to why he needed to return to the ship so desperately. Upon the return of his senses, he gives himself a rough shake of his head and sets his mouth in a determined line upon reconnecting with his hopefully fool-proof plan - the last one did work out quite well considering we had minor casualties and now controlled a Fort strong-hold on the Cuban coast. "Right, back to the ship and onto Kingston," he says with a far more determined air, his voice losing all of its previous confusion, "you coming Tess?"

"It's Tessa," I snap, unable to help myself from venting my frustrations out on the poor bloke.

But Edward merely smiles and offers me his hand, which I reluctantly take. "You know Tess…" he starts, glancing at me from over his broad shoulder as we make our way down the ruined docks of the Garrison, his expression light and highly entertained as he gazes upon my flustered, red-cheeked face.

"What?" I demand, still in a rather foul mood, involuntarily sticking my tongue out at him like a child as I do.

"That's the first time in a long while that you've corrected me like that…"

Oh.

Come to think of it... when was the last time I told him off for calling me that catchy nickname?

I honestly couldn't recall.

"I think you're getting rusty," Edward continues to joke with a soft laugh, releasing my hand the moment we arrive at the pier, his attention captured by the men loading what appears to be a brand-new whaling harpoon to the ship. "What do we have here boys?"

"Thought we could do with a little 'fishing,' Captain," Adéwalé calls from the Gun Deck, "we could sell our prizes for some hefty prices out in the markets... even barters in Kingston would pay well for the freshly caught Bull-shark or Great White... more for a Humpback."

"That's appalling," I hiss, disgusted by the casual way they discussed harpooning innocent creatures - true, sharks were hardly 'innocent' in the eyes of many, but the fact was that they were a necessary part of the food chain and an imprint feature of the oceans ecosystem and whales... well, what could anyone have against whales? They were the goddamn gentle giants of the sea!

"Appalling, yes," Adé agrees, throwing a nod in my general direction, shielding his eyes from the rays of the steadily rising sun, "but profitable? Definitely."

"Nice to chance to see me with my shirt off, Tess," Edward teases, boarding his ship whilst laughing at the distinctly horrified expression that is clear as day upon my heart-shaped face.

"W-w-what?!" I splutter, flabbergasted at my myself and the way my heart gave a little flutter at his flirtatious and obviously tempting suggestion, trying to hide the clear red-glow of my embarrassed cheeks. "H-how... the _nerve_ you have Edward Kenway to even suggest something to a _lady_ ," I snarl, shaking in steadily building anger and embarrassment.

"Thought you said you weren't a lady," that idiotic bastard of a pirate points out with that carelessly impish grin of his.

"Fuck you," I yell, flipping him the finger to which I find myself immediately dumbfounded at the over-dramatic reaction - the things this man made me do, both consciously and subconsciously, was absolutely astounding.

"Only if you're willing, Tess."

With a loud shriek, I throw my arms into the air and storm aboard the Jackdaw, trying to ignore the burning of my cheeks and neck and ears as I stride past Edward, muttering things like 'ass' and 'dick' and 'bastard' - this was obviously a favourite considering I repeated it over and over again and quite loudly, might I add, particularly as I passed the culprit in question - under my breath as I make my way over to the Captain's Quarters, determined that a nice long nap would cheer me up.

"Tess..."

" _What?!"_ I scream, turning on Edward with a look that I was sure could kill.

With that attractive, devil-may-care smirk, Edward allows himself a soft chuckle as he once more points out, "you didn't correct me... you really are losing your touch."

Without another word, I turn sharply on my heel and continue my advance towards Edwards' chambers. I don't know exactly why but the words make my insides feel as cold as a glacier - someone might as well have dumped a bucket of ice over my head. Biting my lip, I focus instead on reaching the relative comfort of Edwards' bed and upon opening the door - and firmly closing it after entering the dark cabin - I flop onto the crimson sheets and bury my face into the rock-hard pillows, attempting to ignore the ice that creeps through my cold, frigid veins.


	20. Chapter 18

**A/N: since next week may be a bit hectic with last minute study, I worked hard today to bring you this chapter early. Consider it both an apology for my lack of uploads over the previous weeks and the weeks to come... anyways... I hope you enjoy this one (and chapter 17, since I uploaded that today as well ^_^)**

 **\- AshTree13 xoxo**

 ***edited on 18/10/15**

* * *

 **Chapter 18:**

Kingston was unique, like every city I had so far visited on my journey with Edward.

The busy, flourishing port city - the capital and largest city of Jamaica - had a much different vibe as opposed to the Cuban city of Havana. Whilst the paved, sprawling city had a very Spanish vibe to it, Kingston had adopted a very British air which clearly stated where it's allegiance lay. It was to be expected; the Spanish and the British were the two largest empires patrolling the seas of this era, which meant that the presence of cities such as Kingston and Havana were bound to appear and act as a central hub of activity primarily for trade and naval defence.

Kingston's concentration of residences seemed to vary as opposed to Havana, whose city streets were of a more complicated nature. Some of the areas of Kingston appeared to the eye as noticeably open and untouched by civilisation - wild - while other streets were so densely populated that despite the wide streets which allowed for swift traffic flow, it was near impossible to take two steps without having to run into or push past a passerby. It was clear that slavery was an important component of the Kingston economy the moment Edward, Adéwalé, Torres and myself stepped ashore; although I should have expected this to be the case, considering that we were chasing a very wealthy and notable slaver, but it was the common presence of sugar mills and planation fields that resided within the city and outside of it which brought this fact to my notice. Some economised vast amounts of land, more than I thought possible; clearly, there were a few, like Laurens Prins, that benefited heavily from the human trading system. These few resided in the imposing and somewhat luxurious mansions scattered about the city, some of which reminded me heavily of Torres's own manor in Havana and Edward's decaying house, once belonging to the memorable arms dealer du Casse, back in the Great Iguana. These grand houses contrasted greatly with the rest of the city, whose's residences shared a plain outlook with those of Nassau - little more than two story's, constructed out of wood and in some cases, reasonably shabby. Again, it was a stark difference from Havana's stoned walls and cobble-stone streets, hinting at Kingston's relative youth.

I loved it.

"Please tell me that we'll be able to remain for a couple of days," I practically beg Edward, my eyes absorbing the almost wild, extensive city as we casually stroll along the golden beach, a feature which I have come to realise is common throughout the Caribbean.

"It's not that fantastic," Edward tells me with a soft chuckle. He reaches over and winds an arm around my waist so to pull me close, his lips pressing against the crown of my head the moment I am comfortably settled against his side.

The whole action seemed so natural… yet, it was about as natural as a pig flying through the air.

Regardless, it caused my cheeks to burn and my stomach to flutter.

"Well, I'll admit that it's not as vibrant nor as culturally developed as Havana," I say with a careful shrug of my shoulders. Shielding my eyes from the suns pulsating rays, I glance up at Edward's attractive face only to look immediately away, cursing my newfound shyness and the embarrassment that colours my cheeks in a rosy hue.

"But…?" Edward asks, nudging my shoulder, oblivious to my awkwardness.

"But there's an almost untameable, wild feeling to the city that I find far more attractive than the order of Havana," I conclude, studying the buildings intently - desperate to look anywhere _but_ at Edward.

"You want disorder? Then you should have stayed in Nassau."

"And let you have all the fun?" I giggle, sneaking a quick look in his direction.

"Because this is just _so_ fun, right Tess?"

"No need to be sarcastic," I scold lightheartedly, elbowing his ribs playfully, "but… you can't deny… Kingston has an air of civility that Nassau lacks - in some ways, it's a comfort to be back in a place where street brawls don't break out every half second. This is undoubtedly a civilisation - a city."

"You'd be bored," Edward retorts, rolling those grey-blue eyes that have become so familiar, so natural to look into on a daily basis.

"How so?"

Edward sneaks a quick, impish smile in my direction before bending his face close to mine so that our cheeks rest a mere inch apart, yet still somehow managing to steer the pair of us through the tight crowd without incident.

Resisting the urge to shy away from his proximity, I try to calm the rapid thumping of my heart and settle the butterflies dancing in my stomach with a newfound excitement, surpassing the shiver the travels down my spine as Edward brings his lips to my ear.

"You won't admit it… but I know you're just as addicted to this lifestyle as I am. The adrenaline, the constant excitement and adventures… you've had a taste and now you're addicted, you wouldn't be able to just lounge around and do nothing. Not now… and besides, I never did think tedium suited you," Edward explains, planting a sudden kiss to my cheek as he finishes.

"I-I… I'm not _addicted_ ," I retort, more than a little flushed with the suddenly affectionate gesture.

I mean… we _were_ a little closer now than we had been two years ago and we did… well… I did… I mean, we _almost_ had sex - I still couldn't decide if I was happy about that interruption or not - and he had effectively nursed me back to health during the new year… but I still wasn't sure how I felt about the guy.

And there was, without a doubt, the underlying fact that I still loved _Him_ and that I had promised I wouldn't forget… if I loved - and, god forbid that actually did _love_ Edward - the man beside me, then wouldn't that be breaking my promise?

"Hello, earth to Tessa."

"What?" I gasp, pulled back to reality by Edward suddenly grabbing me around my waist and the return of that natural yet slightly uncomfortable proximity, his warm breath tickling the heated skin of my face.

"Ah… are you paying attention now?" Edward chuckles, pressing his forehead against mine.

"I… I mean… I was just."

He laughs - one of his _real_ , throaty chuckles that warmed me up from the inside out and turned my insides to liquid. "I was saying that you wouldn't be able to live in Kingston," he explains patiently, watching as my face contorts with confusion.

"And why not?" I ask.

"Well… you love me too much to just sit back and relax in Kingston."

Cue his impish, self-confident smirk.

"Admit it," he continues with a roaring laugh, "you'd miss me… actually, you wouldn't be able to survive two days without me."

"I… I…" my mouth felt dry, my tongue sandpaper. Hearing the suggestion that I was… that I was… _in love_ with Edward out loud only served to make my stomach clench painfully at the simple, yet heavily important words. Clearing my throat, I eventually manage to force a bell-like laugh out, pairing it with what I hoped was a pleasant smile and the hopefully reassuring words of, "course I'd miss you."

"Wow…" Edward chuckles as he ruffles the back of his blonde hair ruefully, "why do I think you're not being as honest as you could be?"

"I mean what I said," I argue fiercely, curling my fingers into fists against his muscled chest, managing to hold his concerned(?) gaze. "I mean…" my voice falters momentarily, "remember when you last came here? You left me behind in Nassau and… well… it was… agonising. There was nothing really to do and to top it all off I ended up catching the flu… so yeah… I'd really miss you, Edward."

"I know…" Edward says, bending his face close to mine, his lips grazing my own as speaks, "see, that wasn't so hard to admit, now was it?"

Unable to stop the incessant and rapid flutter of my heart, I allow Edward to draw - if possible - closer so the handsome, rough man could press his lips against my own.

A kiss that, despite the cliche of it, made my entire body tremble with want and something that was a little deeper than simple happiness. It seemed that my lips melded perfectly against his and, in the all-consuming entirety of the kiss, I lost myself.

The crowd seemed to fade into nothing more than a soft hum and I felt as if all of my worries, all of my concerns about how I really felt about this man, seemed so minute in comparison to this earth-shattering kiss.

Pulling away, Edward studies my blissful expression before aiming a soft, brief peck against my now swollen, rosy lips.

"Asshole," I mutter, kicking at the ground in a somewhat childish manner, the toe of my boots scratching against the pebble-strewn ground.

"Now, now," Edward teases, jumping away from my carefully aimed punch, catching my elbow when I almost topple over from missing what I thought would be a direct blow, "no need to be rude… I just wanted to hear you say it aloud. It's good for my ego, you know?"

"Well," I sigh, scrambling for a counter-argument but settling on an indignant huff, folding my arms over my chest. "I won't make that mistake again," I inform him, a response which only causes Edward to double over in laugher, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"You make my days interesting, Tess… you know that, don't you?"

"Oh… shut up," I sigh, allowing him to once again pull me to his side. As he does, Edwards pulls his hood up to obscure his features whilst his eyes - and mine - attempt to seek out our quartermaster amongst the endless throng of people strolling and bartering by the pier and beach. It wasn't an easy task; there were hundreds of people populating the city of Kingston and although many of Kingston's citizens were of English background, it was clear that due to the abundance of slave trade, the city also housed a large amount of people of colour, many of whom walked the streets freely. It felt as if today was the day every one of them decided to take a trip down to the seaside markets and spend what little coin they may have lying in their worn coin purses.

Everywhere I looked, there would be another stranger passing us by and I was sure that if I wasn't already so familiar with the tall, burly, african man who strode forward to meet both Edward and I, I would have had no chance in spotting Adé amongst the never-ending sea of people.

Glancing over his shoulder, Edward survey's Torres - who we released with further instructions as to how he was to go about this particular plan of Edwards' - and the man who was undoubtedly Prins, a sly smirk curling his lips. "Right," he began, turning his face back to Adéwalé and myself, although his gaze is still trained upon Torres's distant figure, "here's how it goes. Torres meets with Prins carrying a portion of the ransom, saying the rest is close behind-"

"When we see the Sage, Adé will bring the rest of the gold, make the swap and get out as quick as he can while you and I watch from close by," rolling my eyes, I shake my head in wry amusement, prodding Edwrads' shoulder with my own, "you've told us this a thousand times already, Edward."

"Can't help to remind," Edward replies rather darkly, "I'm not losing what little lead we have."

"I don't like it, Kenway," Adéwalé says, stopping Edward before he sets off on a different path, clearly ready to watch his plan unfurl. "You run this scheme alone," Adé continues, looking his captain directly in the eye, "you risk losing the faith of your crew. Personally, it makes me ill to think of you bartering with that wretched slaver."

"Honestly," I murmur, agreeing with Adé, "I'm all for us capturing the Sage and finding the Observatory, cause you obviously won't rest until you do… but I must concur with Adé… you can't trust Torres, Edward."

"Come on," Edward groans, "what option do we have? Once we have the Sage, we'll all be rich."

"Or dead," I mutter, raising my hands in surrender when both of the men shoot me equally dark looks, "okay, okay… seriously mauled, then."

"This is no time for jokes, Tessa," Edward says to me, clearly irritated if using my name and not his affectionate pet name for me is any indication of his displeasure.

"Not…"

"Not what, Adé?" both Edward and I demand, shooting simultaneous glares at the man who started the argument in the first place.

"Not if young Master Kidd gets to him first," the quartermaster answers slowly, his eyes looking beyond Edward and myself, peering into the crowd.

Turning my own head in the direction of Adéwalé's gaze, I am able to clearly make out the slender, leather-clad back of the one and only James Kidd.

Immediately, Edward launches into a string of curse words, his face contorting into a mask of anger. Adding my own obscenities to Edwards' fray, I can feel my cheeks burn along with my flaring temper and despite the little voice in my head cautioning my next actions, I can't help but storm towards the rather feminine man, fists clenched and teeth bared.

"What," I shriek, drawing some curious gazes from the occasional passerby, "the _fuck_ are you doing here?!"

Face scrambling into a mask of combined shock and anger, Kidd catches my fist before it can connect with his jaw, a glare turning his normally friendly eyes cold, his face losing what warmth it usually holds. "I could ask you the same thing," he hisses, shaking his head in disbelief as he notes Edward easily following me up.

"Don't tell me that you're here to kill Prins," Edward groans, noticing the hidden blades strapped to Kidd's wrists, a weapon both pirates shared and used, although Edward preferred to use his much sharper cutlasses. Noticing Kidd's fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist, his face darkens and he immediately grabs the boys arm, tugging my hand out of Kidd's grip, "don't even think about touching her again, Kidd, or I swear to God-"

"You swear to God what, Kenway?" Kidd interrupts but at the man's livid look in his direction, he opts to let the subject drop and instead persists with a new one. "Listen," the boy sighs, backing away from the pair of us the moment Torres and Prins begin to move, the two of them already drifting out of our line of sight, "do me a favour, friend to friend, and stay out of my way."

"I'm not your friend," I retort, noting Torres's movements and immediately setting off after the pair of targets with Edward in tow. Deliberately knocking my shoulder into Kidd's - just in case the guy didn't already understand my anger was directed towards him - I shoot a quick glare at the boy before quickly returning my attention to the reason we were here in Kingston.

"What are you even trying to achieve?" Kidd demands, lengthening his own stride so we are neck-and-neck.

Edward reluctantly follows after the two of us, his hand in mine, releasing a loud and clearly audible sigh at our admirable childish behaviour. However, he soon quietens when both Kidd and I shoot the handsome man simultaneous looks of annoyance.

"We're trying to find the Sage."

"The Sage is here?"

"What do you care?" I snap.

"Why do you care?" Kidd answers back, mimicking my voice in a high pitched squeal which makes me want to turn around and punch the poor bastard - and this time, I would make sure that I hit exactly where I aimed.

"Look," Edward says loudly yet his voice barely breaks above that of a whisper. Reaching for the pair of us, he pulls us to a forceful stop and glowers at each of us in turn, prior to continuing what would undoubtedly be a lecture, "the Sage is here and Prins is leading us straight to him."

"Alright," Kidd mutters angrily, pulling his arm out of Edward's grip after a momentarily pause of deliberation, "I won't kill him... _yet._ "

"How about you don't kill him at all?" I sarcastically suggest, rolling my eyes at the furious expression directed towards me by the boy.

"Tess," Edward warns, pulling a strand of my hair affectionately, "easy girl."

" _Hmph_."

"Now that we're in agreement," Edward states - although I could hardly call this an agreement - allowing himself a wide, excited grin as the adrenaline begins to kick in, spurring the three of us forward with renewed determination, "let's go catch that son of a bitch."

0-0-0-0-0-0

A cemetery.

A fucking cemetery.

It was decided.

Laurens Prins was a strange, foul, evil-little man who liked to do his shady dealings in the company of the dead. I mean, what was I expecting the man to do? Throw a goddamn party?

Still, the cemetery was a little overrated.

I mean, why the Hell would you do business dealings that were obviously meant to be kept a secret in a cemetery? It would be honestly smarter for the idiotic man to do his dealings in a crowded tavern where eavesdroppers such as Edward, Kidd and myself, would not be able to easily overhear the proceedings without risk of being caught. Of course, it was a quiet, deserted location which none would frequent - the bastard probably determined it to be the safest location for a meeting with the Cuban Governor... unseen... unheard... and protected by the multitude of British Guards standing as bodyguards for the wealthy slaver.

"Now's the time," Kidd hisses, moving to make a stand.

"No!" Edward whispers, pulling the boy back down into the shrubbery with a quick tug of his slender shoulder, "not until the Sage appears... that is what we are looking for, after all."

"It's what you and Theresa are looking for," Kidd replies, his brown eyes flashing with barely suppressed irritation, "not me."

"Oh please," I snort, "I just bet you and the Order are dying to get your hands on the Sage and the Observatory... you're just as interested in this prize as Edward is, you asshole, so don't deny it."

Kidd opens his mouth to urge but at Edward's dark look, the boy immediately snaps his mouth close and lets out a deep, audible sigh, reigning in his anger.

Over the non-existent breeze, we hear the man we believe is Prins to say, "here's a quiet spot." And he's not incorrect; the buzz of the trading hub has faded into the distance, the only sound being that of the occasional bird call and the rustle of leaves as both Prins and Torres stride along the headstones... it is so silent that I swore the old geezer would be able to hear a pin drop.

"I'll see the money," Prins continues in his nasally tone of voice.

With a nod of agreement, I watch Torres reach into the pocket of his embroidered blue waistcoat, pulling out a small bag of what is the designated sum bequeathed to him by Edward and myself, a portion I felt was suitable as an upfront payment - kind of like a deposit. "This is just a portion of the ransom," Torres assures the hunched man, handing over the substantial sum which I had spent an hour carefully counting out so not a coin was left out, "the rest is close at hand."

"It pains me," Prins sighs, turning his monocled face away from our sight, his wizened hands clasped behind his back, "to traffic a man of my own race for profit, mister Torres-"

"Oh, I'm sure it does," I hiss, disgusted by the man's obvious lie.

Edward and Kidd both hiss at me to be quiet, straining their ears to pick up the remainder of the conversation.

"-tell me again, what has this Roberts fellow done to upset you?"

"Is this some form of Protestant piety I am not familiar with?" Torres sneers.

Shaking his head, the slaver gives the Cuban Governor a wry smile and tosses back the small bag of reales, "perhaps another day," he says, turning and striding off, leaving behind a very confused and irritated Torres who is quickly spurred into action. Perhaps he is angered by Prins careless disregard for an 'honest' trade or perhaps aware that we would not be entirely satisfied with this excuse if he were to come back empty handed, completely aware that Edward was watching his every move.

" _What_?"

"Next time," Prins says and as he does, the man turns his wizened face so his eyes meet mine.

It is then, with a cold chill running up my spine, I notice that he can _see_ the _three_ of us in the bushes, a knowing smirk lining his age-worn face which told me that he knew.

He knew.

My worst fears are only confirmed when the men says to Torres, "see that we are not followed next time, Governor. Take care of this!"

Calling to his barrage of men, he nods over at our hiding place and, hands clasped regally behind his back, sets off, allowing his barrage of guards to arm themselves and spring into action.

And Torres, obviously coming to realise that the tables have turned in his favour, takes the portion of gold clasped in his hands and runs, leaving us to fend for ourselves - the bastard!

"Oh my God," I gasp, turning to face Edward and Kidd with distinct fear colouring my features, "he knew, he knew all this time!"

"I'm going to kill him!" Kidd grounds out, springing to his as the guards slowly approach the three of us, "and them I'm going to kill _you_ , Kenway!"

"Tess, stay close to me," Edward murmurs, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet, tugging my body so I am shielded by his distinct, ominous presence.

"Okay," I squeak, drawing several silver blades as I do but in all honesty, I don't have the strength to argue… nor the strength to fit 10 heavily armed and well-trained soldiers.

"You cocked up my kill, Kenway!" Kidd barks as he launches himself into the fray.

Already, the highly skilled Assassin has managed to take down two guards with the hidden blades strapped to his wrists, his face a mask of pure fury which he evidently takes out on Prins' guards and thankfully not the two of us.

Ignoring Kidd, Edward pulls both himself and me out of harms way as a bullet comes narrowly close to striking its target - me.

The bullet is so close that I can hear the distinct whizz of the metal ball as it charges past and buries itself instead into a weather-beaten headstone. Drawing his silver cutlasses, Edward promptly drives one into the chest of a unprepared soldier; the unknown soldiers' blood spurts out from the gaping wound in his chest, dying his crimson uniform a darker and far more brilliant red.

"It was for a better cause," Edward manages to grunt, removing the tip of the silver sword only to drive it into the stomach of another, the blood-splatter spraying against Edwards' cheek.

Moving out from behind Edwards' back, I grab one of the men and run my blade quickly but precisely across his neck, watching as the edge of my knife lacerates the mans' tanned skin, a thick jet of sticky, warm blood squirting out from the neat cut. The warm liquid sprays my face with thick droplets yet I barely have time to register my disgust - at both my actions and the bloodstains vibrant against my pale skin - as another soldier charges at me. Flicking my wrist with an ease I didn't expect, another knife buries itself into the shoulder of the enemy; I throw another at a solider locked head-to-head with Kidd, the action allowing the young man to drive the hilt of his hidden blade into the mans' neck, killing him in a matter of seconds.

Kidd has time to shoot me a brief look of thanks, one of his now rare smiles gracing his face, before he is tackled to the ground by another, a distinct grunt of pain echoing from the boy as he collides with the hard ground.

"Kidd!" I cry, rushing forward to help the man I considered a friend - because, despite how angry I was with him, he was just that, my _friend_.

"Tess!"

I have time to only hear Edward's cry before my legs are knocked out from under me and I crash to the ground, barely registering the distinct sound of a pistol going off. The impact isn't as rough as I expect it to be and when I look over my shoulder to see why, I am horrified to find Edward at my back, his face tightened in a mask of pain as we tumble together to the cold ground. Rolling away from me, Edward clutches at his bleeding side and groans softly as the blood leaks through his fingers and it is then that I realise what has occurred.

Edward… Edward is...

The soldier who shot at me but hit Edward instead, grins with grime satisfaction as he makes his way towards the pair of us to finish the job. My eyes widen as he cocks the pistol and aims at my head, yet I am unable to move from Edwards' side, my hands folded over his wound, the blood staining my slender fingers red as I try to stem the flow. However, the tall man only manages a few steps before he is halted by Kidd's blade entering his chest. Coughing up a pitiful amount of blood, the solider crashes to the floor - the last of many - yet I barely register this as tears blur my vision and I struggle to swallow my nausea, focused primarily on tending to the man I loved lying shot and bleeding before me.

Wait.

The man I loved?

"Edward," I angrily sob, pressing harder against his side, struggling to comprehend the thought that is echoing throughout my brain, "why did you do that, you bloody idiot!"

"You think I'd let you get shot?" the usually cocky pirate rasps, his face paling from a combination of pain and loss of blood, as he tries to sit up and reassure me of his condition.

"You should've," I cry, peeling my hands away from the laceration so I can examine the damage up close.

 _I love him, I love him... Oh my GOD! I love Edward..._ I think as I tear the hem of my blouse and crunch the fabric into a ball, pressing it to the wound and reapplying pressure, _I am in love with this man... why? how? HOW can I be in love with Edward fucking Kenway?! It's not possible, I refuse to comprehend this as love..._

Why then, did it hurt so much - almost as if I was the one suffering from a potentially deadly physical injury - when I looked and tended to Edward, a steady stream of blood still trickling out from the gunshot wound, soaking the reasonably clean rag.

Maybe it was guilt, the bullet was, after all, meant for me.

But I knew that that wasn't the case.

"I'm fine, Tess," Edward tells him, touching my cheek gently with blood-stained fingertips, catching my tears.

"It should have been me…"

"Tess-"

"Shut up and let me help you," I gasp out, struggling to see through my tears which blurred my vision and burned my eyes.

"Right... well you're in good care," came Kidd's faint - hold up! _Faint_ voice?

Looking up from Edwards' wound, I feel my eyes widen in shock and momentary betrayal as the man who we called a 'friend' scurries away, barely looking in our direction as a look of pure determination lights his features.

"You lost your chance, Edward! I'm off to do my job!"

"You Bastard!" I shriek after him, tempting to run after the bloke but petrified that in doing so I may be leaving Edward to bleed out, alone, in a cemetery. There was no way in Hell that I was going to leave him, particularly when I was still struggling to distinguish my feelings from guilt and possible affection.

"Go after him, Tess," Edward hisses, pushing me gently in Kidd's direction, "hurry! We can't lose this opportunity!"

"But-" I begin in a wavering, hestinant voice.

"Go, I'll be fine," he assures me, relieving me of my nursing duties by taking the cloth and applying pressure to his own wound, stemming the flow of blood much better than I had managed to, "see? I can take care of myself but we need Prins alive!"

"Okay," I say, scrambling to my feet.

"Hurry!"

And I do, hurry I mean. My feet slap against the hard earth as I sprint after Kidd and in what seems like a few seconds, I have managed to close the relatively large gap left by Kidd's early start. However, I was never much of a sprinter and Kidd has plunged into a crowded street, making it particularly hard to keep track of the nimble boy as he weaves in and out of strangers and to not bump into the seemingly endless array of people strolling down the road. I try calling out for Kidd to stop but I can't manage to form the words, already out of breath due to a combination of my own inability to keep up with the sprinting man and the constricting nature of my corset which I still cannot help but curse despite steadily adapting to the boned stay over the few years I have been forced to don one.

"Please Kidd," I call haggardly, trying not to trip over the loose pebbles and twigs lining the street, narrowly avoiding a collision with an elderly woman being led by a tall, burly man, "wait! Stop! Please!"

"Sorry, Tess, not going to happen!"

" _Please_!" I beg, scrambling up the hill after the agile assassin, wishing I had taken my own assassin training with far more seriousness than I had.

And without me fully processing what I had just done, I find myself crashing once again to the ground, this time with my body on top of another - Kidd.

We fall unspectacularly to the ground, Kidd hitting the hard earth face first whilst I merely graze my elbows on the pebble ridden ground, pleased with the fact that I actually managed to catch the pirate despite the healthy lead he had managed to obtain and my own lacking fitness levels.

It was a goddamn miracle.

"Get off me!" Kidd yells, shoving me off his back simply by bucking his shoulders.

Crashing to the ground butt first, I keep an iron-tight grip on the sleeve of his coat, determined to not let him escape from my grasp. "That hurt," I tell him rather indignantly, getting back to my feet along with Kidd, rubbing at my aching behind with a somewhat rueful expression, "I would have gotten off if you had simply asked."

"Sure you would have," Kidd answers back savaging, ripping his sleeve from my grip, tearing the seam of the jacket as he does.

"I can't let you kill those men, Kidd," I say, resolute in my decision to carry out Edward's wishes, "we worked too hard to let you fuck everything up."

"Language," Kidd sneers.

I promptly flip him the finger in response.

"I've been stalking that _pig_ for weeks, Tessa! And here I find not one, but _t_ _wo_ of my targets and you and Kenway rob me of both!"

"You'll have your kills," I snarl, disgusted by his bloodthirsty attitude but sickened by understanding of where he was coming from - I did, after all, understand the importance placed upon the completion of missions in the Assassin's Order.

"When?" he demands, folding his arms over his chest, "in the next hour? Tomorrow? A _week? A year!?_ For fuck's sake Tess, I am not losing this opportunity just so you and Edward can benefit!"

"Just help me get the Sage," I plead.

Kidd and I stare each other down.

"Fine... fine!" Kidd yells, throwing his arms up in surrender, shooting me a glare that could put Edward's easily to shame, "after I help you locate and contain the Sage, _you_ will help me kill Prins."

"Me?"

"Yes, Tess, you."

"But I-"

"I've seen what you can do, girl," Kidd hisses, already turning on his heel, certain that a bargain had been struck between the two of us, "I know you can handle one old man."

"Fine," I cry, watching his back slowly shrink as he moves into the distance, "but only after I make sure Edward's okay."

Kidd doesn't reply but I know, despite the silence, that we have a deal.


	21. Chapter 19

**A/N: Hey guys,**

 **I am so sorry this chapter took so long to get out to you... I have a number of excuses but honestly, the main reason for my relative silence is the fact that I have just been too busy to sit down and type out a chapter. This chapter I was finding particularly difficult to get out but obviously, since it has now been posted, it got out eventually - with a lot of effort and maybe some blood, sweat and tears (not literally but still...)**

 **Regardless, I hope you enjoy this next instalment of Down The Rabbit Hole...**

 **AshTree13 xoxo**

 **P.S Just thought I should let you guys know, in case you are interested, that my second fanfic is in the works. It's a Hobbit** **fan fiction and I'm really excited about getting it out there - and yes, it will be a romance/adventure much like this... it will also follow mainly the movie guidelines because I could never write up to the standards of one of my fav writers, Tolkien. So... if any of you are interested, keep an eye out for the eventual release of the first chapter (and for the next one of Down The Rabbit Hole xxx)**

 ***edited 23/12/15***

* * *

 **Chapter 19:**

"How is he?"

Breathless and slightly red-faced, I scramble atop the crumbling stone windmill, struggling to catch a steady grip upon the loose shingles. The moment I have heaved myself atop the crimson tiles, my arms shaking from the effort and from supporting my body weight, I allow my body to fold in on itself and crash against the relative safety of the roof, struggling to take in gulps of fresh air, the action moderately painful due to my parched throat. With a grunt, I roll onto my side and angle my face towards Kidd, squinting against the brilliant light illuminating from the orange dyed sky, brushing strands of my red-gold hair out of my forest green eyes, chest heavy and body aching.

"Do... Do you mind re... repeating that?" I pant, throwing an arm over my aching eyes struggling to take calming, deep breaths that would hopefully help to steady my racing heart.

Despite the odd and out of the way meeting place - an ancient, crumbling stone windmill - I had to give Kidd some credit for formulating this... well, brilliant idea.

I had assumed that Kidd would have found it easier to talk in a pub - after all, the more crowded a place, is the less likely you are to be heard and that was the _last_ thing either of us wanted - yet I can see the major pros such a meeting place could afford to offer.

For one, the view atop the old windmill encompassed the entirety of Kingston and even the sunset colour sea; no matter which way I turned my heavy head, I could clearly make out even the finer features of the city.

Pro number two: the location. The crumbling structure bequeathed to us an almost birds-eye look into Prins' heavily guarded compound. Of course, such a view presented to us the greatest possible advantage in assessing the situation and then adapting whatever plan we came up with to the features, structures, guards - any and all defences - that circulated the property below, almost like vultures. In fact, I highly doubted that any of the trained guardsmen circling the estate would hardly think to glance upwards; any potential intruders would be surveying the ground from below, no? And even if they did, by chance, think to direct their gaze to the height of the windmill, the harsh rays of the setting sun prevented anyone from catching a clear view, unless said person was desperate enough to risk their fragile eyesight.

In other words, it was genius.

The smart bastard.

Rolling those handsome grey eyes of his, Kidd continues his methodical shredding of fallen leaves, watching the decomposing pieces twirl and flutter towards the green covered ground, like some sort of strange ballet and although I catch his gaze flicking occasionally in my direction, the boy more or less ignores me. But then...

"I said," he answers with a long, drawn out sigh, tossing aside the few remaining leaves in his possession, "how is he?"

"How do you think he is?"I snap, launching myself off the loose roof tiles.

It was a dumb move, really.

Anyone with a functional brain and working eyesight would have realised that, despite the massive advantage such a structure presented, it was clearly a deathtrap. The stone walls of the windmill were crumbling and seemed to groan each time Kidd and I shifted our weight or when a soft ocean breeze whispered through the foundations cracks; a foreboding sound that seemingly indicated that if we were to make any incorrect movements atop the deadly rooftop, there was a enormous possibility of falling through the weak, poorly tiled roof. Speaking of the tiles, many were as fragmented as the building itself, with almost the entirety of the rooftop littered with loose shingles which anyone could slip on and fall to their deaths - the height wasn't exactly agreeable in that particular event.

And here I am, trying to throw myself at Kidd atop a building that was unintentionally trying to kill me; how stupid could I be?

I feel myself slip, gravity propelling my bodies weight forward towards the hard ground waiting below. There is nothing to grab onto - not a single tile and I'm not idiotic enough to reach for the windmills' blades - but I know the landscape beneath me will hardly be forgiving if I crash into the earth. Nonetheless, what can I do but close my eyes and anticipate the sound of my body crashing into the dirt, the sound of bones snapping and the wind rushing past my ears as I plummet to the waiting world below?

Answer: nothing.

Or so I thought.

" _Tessa!_ "

A slender hand clamps around my forearm, the vice-like grip throwing me back against the roof with a loud, booming crash. Pain shoots up my spine, aches from my shoulder which was the first to connect with the unstable, clay tiles of the roof and my breath is momentarily forced from my body.

And so I lie there, temporarily winded with my back throbbing as my sensitive nervous system sends pain signals to my brain; I ache everywhere _but_ I'm not a flattened pancake sprawled on the daisy-sterwn floor, I'm not dead and it's all thanks to the boy currently straddling my waist, his face inches from mine, face flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly with each sharp intake of air.

"Kidd..."

"You complete idiot!" he roars, his hands which grasp my forearms tighten their grip, his nails digging into my skin through the thin cotton blouse I wear, "why must you always overreact? You could have... gods, Tess, you could have _died_!"

"Good thing you have reflexes like a cat," I try to joke, flinching when his grip tightens - if possible - further; it was like the boy was trying to cut off any circulation to my upper body.

"You... you just...! Why?!"

"Why what?" I reply, rearranging my expression into one that's hopefully blank and emotionless. It is an attempt - a _failing_ attempt, I might add - to try and hide my growing frustration at the man before me. I promised Edward that I would try to work with him, rather than against him, in order to locate the Sage and thus achieve our goal - well, Edwards' goal - at finding the Observatory. Yet, despite the fact that Kidd had indeed just saved me, it was apparent that I could not neglect my previous perceptions, all of which screamed at me to run as far as I could from the person who had been labelled _traitor_ in my subconscious.

"I don't understand you," the boy mutters, his voice almost desperate as he shakes his head, strands of his windswept black hair falling into his pretty face.

"Sorry that you can't read me like an open book," I snarl, my pertinence running thin, close to breaking point as I wriggle and squirm beneath his oppressive weight and soul-searching stare, "now... get the Hell off of me!"

"No," came the simple, disdainful response.

"No? _No?!_ "

"Shut up! Do you want to get caught," Kidd hisses, his contemptuous expression dissolving into one of pure panic. In his desperation to quiet me, he removes his grip from my right shoulder and attempts to cover my mouth with his strangely feminine, rough hand but the action doesn't quite go according to his plan. Not only can I sink my teeth into the salt flesh of his palm, but the lack of force pushing my body against the practically non-existant safety of the roof allows me to put weight behind my body and attempt to throw myself forwards; all with the intention of dislodging Kidd from his perch.

Of course... it doesn't work.

"Ow! What the fuck, Tessie?"

"Get _off_!" I scream, futilely kicking my legs, feeling the irritatingly familiar sensation of unshed tears burning my eyes and blurring my vision.

 _I will not cry,_ I think as I continue to squirm despite Kidd's desperate reassurances and attempts to assert authority, _I will. Not. Cry!_

"Tessa... please... just stop."

"Agh-" my voice breaks and with it, so does my will - well, a small segment of my will.

I feel the tension drain from my body as the realisation that each kick, each attempted punch, each and every word torn from my throat is completely pointless. It was futile from the beginning and I'm not entirely sure why I was putting so much effort into trying to escape, in trying to resist, when I know that I have to stick it out and try to work with this insufferable man. Besides... I wasn't particularly fond of the idea of being caught by Prins' guards and potentially thrust aboard yet _another_ prison ship... and this time, it would be just me on that convoy. Still...

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I whisper, closing my eyes so to block out the innocently confused and relieved expression upon Kidd's rather attractive face, taking a deep, rattling breath as I try to sort through my scrambled thoughts, "I don't understand you at all..."

"What don't you understand, Tess?" Kidd asks me, his voice soft but serious - I know that he wants the truth.

"You left him."

"I knew that he would be okay with you," Kidd murmurs, his eyes widening with instant understanding, "because you lov-"

"Don't," I whisper with a low moan, clamping my hands over my ears as my heart gives a painful squeeze, a few tears escaping from the corner of my eyes, slowly drifting down the side of my face and eventually settling in my thick hair, which lies in a chaotic state across the greying roof. I bite my lip and swallow back the rest of my tears, desperate to keep myself together despite the emotional pain - the guilt - that is tearing me apart from the inside out. "If you have any respect for me left," I croak, opening my watery, green-blue eyes to shoot the boy before me a deep, loathing glare, "if you still consider yourself my friend, like he seems to believe, you will stop. Now."

"You can't deny it, Tessie," Kidd persists, shaking his head with disbelief and concern, "you can't run away from the fact that you lo-"

"Stop!"

" _Love_ Edward," Kidd practically growls, once again pressing the majority of his bodyweight against me in an effort to stop my squirming. Taking my silent tears and uneven breaths as some sort of confirmation, Kidd nods his head in a solemn manner and finally removes himself from his straddling position, absentmindedly running a hand through his wind-blown locks as he settles himself, as comfortably as he possibly could manage, on the loosely tiled roof. Drawing his knees to his chest, he lets out a deep sigh and turns his face towards the fading sunset, the suns last feeble rays barely breaking through the approaching night sky, the hue no longer a soft red-gold-orange but a deep, almost royal purple. The once gentle ocean breeze is a little stronger now, causing the crumbling structure to creak and groan as if it were a prop from some poorly designed horror movie, but it cools my flushed cheeks and dries my red, puffy eyes as well as the tears that are soaking into my hair and skin.

"Listen," he continues after a long pause, glancing at my prone finger out of the corner of his eye, "I wouldn't have left Edward, shot and bleeding out in that cemetery, if it had been just the two of us. I knew, that if you were with him, it would be okay to continue gathering intel on Prins' operation and potentially carrying out my mission. I was confident that he would be in no danger because he had _you_ , Tess."

"It was my fault he got shot," I mumble lifelessly, the guilt clawing at my heart, wringing it dry of any and all emotions except for regret and shame. It was my fault; that bullet had been meant for me and it would have hit it's mark too, due to my momentarily lapse of concentration. It should have hit me... but it hit Edward - because he just had to be the hero, had to prove that chivalry wasn't dead... had to keep his promise to look after me. "The bullet," I continue, turning my flushed, tear-stained face towards Kidd with a smile that was filled with pure self-loathing, "was meant for me... never for him, Kidd."

"Regardless, Edward took the risk"

"But-"

"The point is, Tessie, that Edward saved your life and yes, he did get injured in the process but he made that decision... you can't blame yourself for his actions."

"But-"

"You love him," Kidd interrupts for the second time, giving me a almost sad, longing look, "that's why the guilt is eating you alive... because you love the Bastard and you feel that it should have been _you_ taking the shot for _him._ I can tell you now, he doesn't regret it - I know he would've have done anything for you, to keep you safe... he proved that in Tulum."

"..."

"Tess?"

"Why did you lead us into that trap, Kidd? Back in Tulum with the Assassins, I mean" I wonder, finally saying what I really wanted to convey to the boy who had lost my trust yet despite all that, despite all his terrible personality attributes, despite my pig-headed stubbornness to not forgive and not forget, he had still tried. I hadn't forgot what Edward had told me at the start of the new year, of Kidd waiting for him to return from Kingston, the bag of purchased medicinal Dogwood in his hands, patiently waiting to hand it over to my companion with specific instructions on what he was to do to rid me of my flu symptoms.

I wanted to know his reasons.

I was ready to hear them.

Finally.

"I didn't think it would get as serious as that," he eventually admits, biting his lip nervously, as if unsure how to proceed.

I don't push him; I wait as patiently as I could manage, studying the boy's shadow-lined profile as he debates on what to say and what not to say - which would be safe to say and which would not, because despite my ties to the Order, I wasn't actually a part of this particular faction and each guild guarded their secrets closely. Many Assassins took their secrets to the grave... I hoped that his answer wasn't one of those precious nuggets of truth.

"I thought that... that my mentor just wanted to know what Edward knew about the Observatory - it's quite limited, the information we have on it. I didn't think that he would pick a fight with Edward... nor did I expect Edward to confess to such a crime," Kidd sighs - the two of us seem to be doing a lot of that lately - and reaches out, grabbing one of my hands and giving it a comforting, friendly squeeze, "I also didn't expect you to have so many tricks up your sleeve, Miss North."

"Always the tone of surprise," I giggle, responding to his touch by returning the gentle squeeze with one of my own.

As we sit, watching the sun take its final bow as it descends beneath the ocean's deep-blue horizon, I can't help but come to terms with the fact that I had missed this; this casual, serene relationship that I had had with Kidd right from, well, the get-go. I missed the teasing and the random, flirty smiles he would shoot my way... I missed having someone who was just a friend, who I could rely on and one who would understand my position - Edward understood me... well, he understood me perfectly but I couldn't talk to him about my Order, about my life with them nor my life before. Kidd, on the other hand, was living the life I once lived - well, he was living the life Desmond had lived and the life I had supported from the shadows, yet that didn't really make any difference.

He would get it.

 _Edward was right,_ I think with a sad but fond smile, _god, that will inflate his ego... me telling him he was right but he was..._ _we've been acting like children, both us too headstrong and too proud to say that we both made a mistake._

Shuffling closer to my friend, I bump my forearm against his, offering him my open palm which he readily accepts with a soft grip. Then, and only then, do I feel myself entirely relax and allow the tension that has inhabited my body since the start of this miserable day, fade into nothing and with it, i rest my head on his shoulder with a soft sigh, closing my eyes to the fading light of the orange sunset. The pair of us exchange a soft smile and squeeze each others hand with a little more force as if believing that mere action would help convey our feelings better than any inadequate words could achieve.

 _I'm sorry._

0-0-0-0-0-0

"I'm torn."

"Between what?"

"Hmmm, let's see... I don't know whether I should I hit you," raising my hand, I quickly flick out a finger to physically demonstrate the list formulating in my consciousness, my head tilted to one side as I consider the possibilities, "stare at you in complete disbelief, laugh it off because frankly I knew there was something... well... how does one put this? Something _different_ about you. Or I could just pretend like we never had this conversation to begin with and just continue on my blissfully ignorant way."

Kidd - well, rather Mary Read - turns his... I mean _her_ pinched, rosy-red cheeked face towards me and offers a coy grin, one that causes her grey eyes to sparkle with mischievousness, a trait I had long since associated with Kidd-Mary... gods this was going to be confusing.

Honestly, I should've known - there was no way someone as delicate and as feminine as her could be a boy... well, she could have been a very pretty boy yet i doubted that was likely. Really, there wasn't much difference between James Kidd and Mary Read - obviously that was because they were both the same person but there weren't any real defining features that marked her out as a woman. I assumed she bound her breasts to keep her chest as flat as it was, in order to pull off masquerading as a male, and she evidently kept her shoulder-length, luscious raven curls pinned up to give the appearance of having an almost pixie-cut hairstyle but that wasn't anything, well, strange nor obvious of her feminine status. In fact, it was only the pinched cheeks that brought colour to her somewhat pallid but tan complexion and the coloured lips paired with the heavily eye-lined eyes which really brought out the heart-shaped, high cheekbone _woman_ hiding behind her ratty blouse and ragged trousers, her well-worn boots and very masculine demeanour.

I was confident that she could've fooled anyone... not just me.

But, I was pretty blind not to notice.

"I can't believe you didn't say anything," I complain in a hushed whisper.

"And when exactly would be the right moment to tell you? We haven't exactly been on speaking terms, now have we?"

"Oh... right..." bowing my head in embarrassment, I glance over my shoulder and give her an apologetic look, "again... I really am sorry."

"So am I," Mary murmurs in reply, returning my weak grin with an apologetic smile of her own.

"Does anyone else know?"

"No! And you can't tell anyone, Tessie."

"I won't," I promise, holding out my pinky-finger.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a promise," I whisper back in confusion, tilting my head to one side with one of my slender eyebrows raised as I study Mary's perplexed expression, "haven't you made a pinky-promise before? Maybe you know it as a pinky-swear?"

"A what?"

With a sigh and a small chuckle, I grab Mary's hand and loop her pinky with mine, giving it three little shakes for good measure. Holding it up before us, I wiggle my pinky and grin in a somewhat cheeky manner. "I promise not to tell Edward anything... I cross my heart," I pause a make a show of drawing a cross over the left-centre of my chest, right above my heart, before proceeding, "hope to die... I'll stick a thousand needles in my eye."

"That sounds rather painful."

"It's just a saying," I say with a soft laugh before untangling my pinky finger from hers, watching as Mary, despite the perplexed look she continues to wear upon her pretty face, notes the sudden change in the atmosphere and immediately returns her focus to the plan she had primarily conceived atop that ruined windmill, her face lined with determination.

I knew it would be difficult; sneaking into the heavily guarding compound in which each sector of the damn manor seemed to consist of a number of guards, one or two snipers and an alarm bell, upon which the moment it was rung, swarms of guards would descend upon that sector with guns loads, cutlasses sharpened and face alight with excitement at finally - _finally_ \- getting some action in their otherwise dreary and long nights; of course, I had learnt this the hard way. Lucky for me, part of the plan was that under no condition would we go our separate ways because despite the renewal of friendship, their was still an underlying suspicion that the other would take what was theirs - plus, I wasn't exactly thrilled about plunging my knives and my newly bestowed rapier into someones chest... nor was I comfortable with shooting the pistol strapped to my waist; too soon. However, Mary had been able to work around the massive amount of soldiers standing guard and through utilising her eagle vision, had been able to gather a strong enough layout of the area that we were practically able to avoid particular hotspots, saving us the added trouble to dealing with power-hungry, trigger-happy guards and reinforcements. In a short amount of time - much less than I had expected - we had managed to make our way to the main complex; Prins luxurious mansion... and it really was luxurious, reeking of riches and privilege, an aspect that disgusted Mary and myself, since we knew exactly what had made Prins so wealthy.

A delicate shudder makes it way up my spine at the dreaded thought and the horrible memories that accompany it; after all, Edward and I had been in a similar situation aboard that Spanish Convoy two years ago and we had liberated a planation similar to this... although at much smaller a scale... and had stopped Prins from taken the Assassin's as slaves late last year. I had had more dealings with the human trade system than I would prefer.

"Can you see him?" Mary suddenly asks, craning her head around the thick marble column she was sheltered behind, trying to pick out our target in the omnipresent gloom broken only by the weak light of the braziers lining the stone hallways.

"I think I can..." I mutter, drawing a single knife and edging closer towards the suspected target, already rearranging my body into a position which would allow for hopefully a clean kill - I wasn't ready to watch someone die horribly slow and in pain like the first. "Yeah... I've got a cle-mph!" suddenly, two hands grab me from behind, covering my mouth before I can clearly convey to Mary out current situation and pulling me back into a firm, warm chest. Immediately, I struggle and try to break the firm grip the guy - his form was too bulky to not be a male - had around my waist, slamming the heel of my boot onto the bridge of his foot and driving my elbow into his ribcage, grinning against his hand when I hear an unmistakable grunt informing me that I had hit my target; unfortunately, the guy persists and tightens his grip on me, slowly turning my body towards his to the point where my face is slammed against his well-defined, clothed chest and I cannot move against his cage-like embrace.

"Tess!"

With a loud gasp, I jerk my head upwards and stare in complete shock at Edward's handsome, chiselled face, my own slowly colouring with embarrassment as I come to terms with the fact that it is Edward - _Edward -_ who holds me in a now gentle embrace, that it is his fingers running through my loose ponytail and his familiar scent invading my nostrils each time I breathe in.

"What the Hell are you doing here?" Mary angrily curses under her breath, her face a mask of thunder as she studies the pair of us.

"You were taking too long," he muttered in response, tightening his grip on me - I find myself unresponsive to his touch and tightening embrace, my body still in complete shock at the sudden turn of events and his sudden appearance - resting his chin on the crown of my head as he calmly survey's Mary, his eyes twinkling with mild amusement, "I thought you might need some help... lass."

"Oh for god sakes-"

"You should be resting," I manage to finally gasp out, interrupting Mary without a second thought, blinking back the happy tears that blur Edward's familiar figure from my clear view, "you _need_ to be resting."

"No," he corrects, placing a swift peck on my cheek before releasing me from his tender embrace, loading his pistol with quick, eerie precision and aiming it steadily from our hidden position at Prins' shadowy and practicality non-existent form, "I need to fulfil my end of the bargain... I shouldn't have forced Tess to follow this through without me."

"Edward-"

Before either of us can stop him, a loud bang echoes around the overgrown courtyard and Prins crumbles to the ground dead, whilst Edward's pistol smokes and the distinct scent of gunpowder overpowers my senses, making my eyes water. Coughing, I stumble into the courtyard and head towards Prins' shuddering corpse, grimacing when my boots splash into a large puddle of blood and the irony tang touches my tastebuds the moment I take a breath in; carefully, I bend over and touch Prins' throat, trying to find a pulse.

Unsurprisingly, I find none.

"Oh shit," Mary gasps, her entire form trembling from a mix of anger and complete disbelief, "oh _shit!_ What have you done!"

"Your job," Edward mutters, limping towards me, a hand clutching at his side; clearly, the pig-headed man couldn't sit still despite the extent of his injuries. Honestly, it was a miracle the man had even managed to get this far without pulling a stitch - or five.

"Are you okay?" I whisper, running up to him and looping my arm around his waist, pulling his around my shoulders so I can support his weight to which he responds with a grateful smile.

"Peachy."

"Don't joke with me," I hiss, trying to keep my erratic heartbeat steady and my cheeks from burning to brightly with embarrassment and maybe with a hint of desire, because now that I was aware of my feelings for Edward, I was finding it very difficult to a) keep a straight face and b) not let the guilt overtake; the guilt of Edward being shot and the guilt of breaking my promise to Desmond... I had never been more disgusted with myself than at this moment - well, that wasn't entirely true. The award for most disgusted moments was a close tie with the realisation that I loved Edward and the time I had taken Shaun up on a dare and managed to drink my way through two bottles of Pinot and two shots of straight Russian Vodka... not my finest moment, I can tell you.

"How did you get past the guards? How the hell are you even _standing_? And don't bullshit me with this 'I'm fine' crap because you've looked better, I can tell you that right now!"

"Easy Tess... one question at a time," Edward murmurs with a tired, strained smile, "Okay... so I'm just a little sore but-"

"I hate to interrupt this 'beautiful' reunion, Kenway," Mary yells, instantly grabbing our attention with her sarcastic but panic-filled tone, our gazes following her own towards the balcony of Prins manor, which overlooked the unkept garden and allowed for one to easily view the 'picturesque' scene unfolding in the closed off, private grounds.

"I remember you," the man perched on the balcony calls out, a silver pistol glinting under the dim lamplight, aimed directly at Edward's head, "the Templar from Havana."

 _So... that's the Sage..._ I silently think, studying the unkept man watching us like a hawk from its roost, taking in the unkept, dirty-brown hair and the leathery tanned skin, the well-worn, apricot shirt which as torn down the front of the torso exposing his muscled chest which was covered with a thin layer of grime and... well... dirt. More importantly, I keep my eyes trained on the barrel of his sleek pistol, my arm tightening around Edward's race as I prepare to flee from the scene.

"Although," he continues with a lazily smirk, his gaze drifting slowly and suggestively over first Mary and then myself, "I don't remember that pretty lass... I don't remember either of them.

"You wouldn't, considering that we've never met," Mary retorts, simultaneously drawing her pistol with Edward and holding it, barrel facing the Sage with a determined set to her mouth and a coldness in her eyes, "until now, that is... but I have heard of you Roberts..."

"Have you now?" The man called Roberts smirks, raising a thick eyebrow and inclining his head towards Edward, "did the Templar tell you all about me, Miss Assassin?"

"I'm not Templar mate," Edward calls out, pulling himself away from my supportive embrace and raising his hands in a kind of mock surrender - not quite showing submission but all the same attempting to convey to the gun-wielding man that we meant now harm, "that was just a rouse! We're hear to save you from the slaver-"

"Save me?" Roberts interrupts with a contemptuous laugh, "oh, that's rich!"

"It's not a joke," I yell, frustrated with the lack of progress and irritated with my overwhelming instinct urge to take Edward and get the Hell away from this bloody compound before everything we had worked for, everything we had achieved, begins to go down the metaphorical drain.

"All I meant, pretty lass, is that I work for Mr. Prins," he pauses, studying the bloody corpse lying the in the ivy-covered gazebo, "well... work _ed_ for him, past tense, since you killed him and all that shit."

"A poor man to call master, don't you think?" Mary calls back, strolling towards the body - all the while with the pistol still aimed and loaded at Roberts, her gaze never wavering from his - and, upon reaching it, giving the side of the corpse a swift kick in the ribs, one so hard that I can hear the fragile bones shatter upon impact, "he was going to sell you out to the Templars, you know?"

"Well... you can't trust anyone, it seems... especially the three of you."

What happens next is all a blur.

Roberts shoots - not at Edward nor Mary nor even myself, but at the alarm bell hidden in the furthest corner of Prins' private garden, setting the alarm off with a somewhat soft, but all the same, earth-shattering clang - instantly alerting the guards prowling the compound to a disturbance and, unfortunately, our presence.

"We have to _move!_ " Mary screams at the pair of us, firing off a shot at the retreating Roberts, her eyes wild with desperation as the bell continues to call for help despite the ringer already on the move.

"But-" Edward begins, turning towards her until my scream recaptures his attention.

"Edward!" I dive for cover as the first guard enters the clearing and fires off what was possibly a warning shot but regardless of whether or not the guy missed on purpose, I do not take being under fire without some degree of panic; and by some, I mean _a lot._

"Fuck!" Edward growls, grabbing my hand and drawing one of his silver cutlasses after returning the pistol to its appropriate home, tearing out of that clearing after Mary as fast as he could go, all the while cursing under his breath at his misfortune.

Because, once again, the elusive Roberts slips right out of our fingertips.

Fuck indeed.


	22. Chapter 20

**A/N: HEY EVERYONE!**

 **I'm alive! Did you miss me?**

 **I am terribly sorry for the EXTREMELY late upload... my only reason for it is that I have been incredibly busy and unfortunately this fan fiction had to be put on hold until I had everything I needed to do sorted out. Now that I have done that, hopefully I can maintain a regular upload :)**

 **In order to make up for the lack of an update, I have written an extra long chapter that I am sure you will all enjoy - and if you don't or if you have any comments, please let me know, I really appreciate the reviews! To those who have been reviewing: THANK YOU SO MUCH! All of your comments are very much appreciated and I will try to take all of your suggestions!**

 **A special congrats to the person who made that very special connection with my OC's name... I take my hat of to you sir! If anyone else happened to notice... then I congratulate you too**

 **Anyways... enjoy my next instalment**

 **\- AshTree13 xoxo**

 **P.S this may be edited at a later point in time in order to correct any notable mistakes made...**

* * *

 **Chapter 20:**

Why?

Why was it that oppressive, suffocating silence seemed to follow me wherever I happen to go?

Did I draw it to me, like a moth is drawn to a flame? Or perhaps it was as much as part of me as the heart pumping blood inside of my chest?

I don't have a defining answer, one that will make it all clear; I only know that it always seems to be present, hovering just out of reach until the moment it is called forth from the depths of the shadows from which it came. I do know that it was hardly enjoyable…

I remember it being unbearable.

Unbearable in the way it clenched at your heart, feeling like it was a stone sitting in the pit of your stomach, nothing more than dead weight. Insufferable, with the way it left an almost bitter taste in your mouth and no matter how much water you guzzled down your seemingly permanently parched throat, it would never entirely disappear… it was as if your tastebuds remembered the flavour of disappoint… of solitude… of misery. Intolerable because it was like a storm cloud on the horizon; dark, ominous with the undeniable promise of future despair and chaos, the knowledge that it was coming for you whether you wished it too or not - completely aware that once the tension and the anguish and the anxiety had set in, it was an almost a guarantee.

I have wanted it to avoid it since that day, because once was enough but things like this, well, they seem to be inevitable… when it comes to me, that is.

And I can't bear it.

Not anymore.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Had it always been this quiet? Had it always been so constricting?

It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, creating a vast vacuum in which the silence stretched for miles, causing the discontent settled in the pit of his stomach to once again fester and flourish, bringing with it a heaviness to the already stale atmosphere that would not be easily lifted. The shadows from the darkest corners of the usually vibrant Kingston streets appeared to grow in intensity, looming forth as if ready to consume him whole, drown him in the guilt and the failure of his actions. The frustration, the disappointment… the loss… it continually circled the forefront of his consciousness - a vulture awaiting to devour its prey.

And the question remained; how?

How the Hell had the Sage once again slipped through his fingers, despite the careful planning and the waiting and the passion that had been thrust towards that singular goal? The plan had been fucking foolproof - at least, it had appeared that way to him during the careful process of distinguishing a direct and correct course of action - yet somehow the artfully constructed plan had gone from being absolutely flawless to fucking pathetic in a matter of seconds; fragmented, adrift on the nonexistent wind.

Had all that planning and bidding for time… all that patience and all that work, been for naught?

And he called himself a pirate?

Fucking pathetic.

"Edward?"

The soft, melodic voice called out to him from the omnipresent gloom and immediately his steel-blue eyes sought out the petite redhead, lingering at somewhat of a distance but nonetheless at his side. Her heart-shaped face was flushed from their daring escape and more than a little worse for wear; her normally unblemished skin was marred with dirt and what, to his carefully trained eyesight, was evidently dried and crusting blood - her own… he wasn't sure but the harrowing sight made that guilt and that pain and that failure somehow more real and that tension that had been slowly bleeding out of him as he studied her battered beauty began to build back up. He hated that he was the cause of her panic, her distress, that it was he who had caused her to be put into a situation which was less than ideal; sure she was moderately trained in using those goddamn knives she now insisted upon carrying with her and he had taught her to shoot and reload a pistol in under a minute (she was actually making impressive time with the reload, knocking up 32 seconds… impressive for someone who still held the minor weapon as if it could go off at any moment,) yet that didn't excuse the fact that she had been incredibly vulnerable, no matter how much she protested that fact.

 _This is why I choose to operate alone_ , Edward thought venomously, averting his eyes when his heart clenched painfully at the sight of her widening emerald-blue eyes, the compelling depths swirling with a mix of worry and indecisiveness - although he had no clue what she could possibly be indecisive about… however, it had become an increasingly common expression for her whenever they were in the same vicinity, particularly when they were in exclusively each others company - giving her the appearance of a startled fawn.

Nonetheless, he reached out for her notably tiny hand, encasing the warm flesh in a reassuring grip before gently squeezing those slender, delicate fingers; an embrace she immediately returned.

"We're okay, aren't we?" Tess enquired, biting her lip before proceeding to chew at the inside of her cheek; a nervous habit of hers which he found strangely enchanting but nevertheless reminded him, _painfully_ , that he was the cause of her possibly overwhelming anxiety.

He understood her need for reassurance - Theresa North was a strong woman; she was brave in spite of the many fears that beat her down and pressured her on what felt like a daily basis and no matter the challenge, she would step up with little argument or complaint.

She was one of his most trusted allies… and he had not spoken two words to her since the ordeal at Prins' Manor.

In his defence, he had been considering his next course of action - they could hardly remain in Kingston after the disastrous assassination and foiled capture of the legendary Sage, as it was likely that word was spreading faster than wildfire, of three rogue pirates/assassins taking out half of the guards at the compound before finally doing away with richest slaver in the Caribbean… who knew when the guardsmen defending the regal Manor of the English colony and the common British Soldiers strolling the worn streets - who were always up for a fight, no matter the cause nor the target in question - would find them and thus take them in for questioning before a swift execution on the grounds of piracy and willful murder. However, his excessive wallowing in his despair and failure could hardly defend the lack of communication that had transpired between the two; he should have said something the moment the immediate threat had passed but upon missing the chance to do so, decided that the best course of action was to remain silent and sleuth over the limited options before them; one word of reassurance couldn't have hurt… no wonder she was clinging to his hand like it was a lifeline, no wonder she looked terrified and confused and… and lonely.

God, he was a git.

A great, massive git.

With a practicality silent sigh, Edward relinquishes his grip on Tess's hand, choosing instead to wrap his now free arm around her shoulders so to pull her close to his side, a faint smile creeping across his face upon hearing her startled cry but feeling her returned embrace when she rests her cheek just above his heart.

"Edward?"

Angling his face towards the crown of her head, he inhales her distinctive scent before carefully placing a kiss atop her fiery ringlets, curling her loose strands around his calloused digits - a habit he was confident he would never be rid of, so long as Tess stood at his side - before slowly sliding his hands from her shoulders to her waist, finally resting upon the small of her back; an action which immediately and effectively silenced any further response from the petite Assassin.

Well… any particularly verbal response.

Shyly, Tess's doe-like eyes watch him carefully, her expression even more conflicted and filled with a wider variety of emotions than before, as she gazed upon him with unabashed curiosity and intrigue… and maybe even with a little lust (ridiculous…. but possible.) The question now stood; how should he proceed? Kiss her, or pull away before either one could fall further into the depths of what may be their own personal Hell? Often, he would kiss her regardless - his newfound fledging feelings propelled him forward, pushing past any boundaries of courtesy that had existed once before them - but today he was truly unsure.

Despite this, it was hard to walk away. Her torso was pressed right up against his, heating their already overly-stimulated bodies to a point where it was getting particularly difficult to focus on anything but her plump lips and those gorgeous, bottomless pools that were her luxurious eyes. It was almost as if his body craved her touch… her embrace… her affection and overall her love… as if his body was convinced that by turning her willing body towards him, running his hands up and down her sides which elicited the sweetest of tremors and caused goosebumps to rise upon her flesh, would lighten up the sour mood that had consumed the pair of them. It did not entirely erase the pain coursing through his body at such a degree that he felt almost numbed… yet, when she tilted her head towards his, allowing for him to press his lips against hers and then conceding to the pressure of tongue pushing its' way into her mouth in an effort to deepen the kiss and perhaps erase all of the fear and worry that had built up over the past hour, he could almost believe the thought circulating his consciousness.

 _We're going to be okay..._

0-0-0-0-0-0

 _This is... odd._

That was one way to accurately describe the situation unfurling before me.

Studying Edward's impassive face and noting that his eyes were slightly out-of-focus, concerned primarily with his preoccupying thoughts rather than what was occurring around him at that present moment, I wrap my hands around the tea cup - sorry, tea _bowl_ \- and bring the rim to my lips, sipping at the bitter almost greenish liquid which was apparently some form of 'tea.' Scrunching up my face the moment I manage to swallow the decidedly foul and lukewarm substance, I gently return the cup to its gilded saucer and reach for the sugar only to find that it was already at my side, the silver seashell-shaped spoon resting upon the almost sparkling white mound.

I glance up at Edward with a wry grin, "thanks."

"You looked incredibly displeased sipping your tea," he shrugs his shoulders and allows himself a small smile, "I know that some can find this particularly brew rather… strong… I figured that the sugar would help sweeten it."

"Thanks," I repeat, adding a gracious amount of the crystallized substance to the concoction, desperately wishing that I also had a small jug of hot milk to balance out the sweetness and the bitterness that still lingered when I took another sip. "The teas I usually drink aren't this strong... come to think of it, I rarely drink tea unless it's English Breakfast and even then I have to add a lot of milk..." I trail off upon noticing Edward's perplexed expression, realizing at that moment that I had started talking about things from my time, things that I doubted existed in Edward's present.

"What's English Breakfast?" He asks curiously, resting his elbow on the table and then his chin upon his open palm, his inquisitive gaze confirming my doubts.

"Um... well, it's a type of beverage that... well," I struggle to find the words.

Currently residing in the past yet hailing from the future, I had always wondered whether or not I would have some defining influence on the time period present. Surely, I would be a distant figure in the memories of those I had come to know; people like Edward and Mary and maybe even the infamous Blackbeard… I would remain, to some degree, a figure of the past upon returning to the future - to my present - so thus, the decisions I made and the choices acted upon would somehow impact the past. After all, I may not belong to this time line but I certainly exist within it. So… if I revealed too much about myself, if I ingrained my already present figure into the memories of others and changed the actions of the men arrayed me, it must surely alter what was once set in stone.

Therefore, even discussing the little things such as different types of tea, may prove to be detrimental to my own time.

"Do you drink this particular… tea, was it? where you come from, Tess?"

"Yes," I answer, relieved that Edward had formulated his own conclusion after my own explanation had dwindled into nothing, "it's a type of tea very popular in my… uh… home."

"I think I'd like to try this 'English Breakfast,'" came Edwards' soft murmur.

Spitting out my tea, I aim an incredulous look in his direction, sure that the beverage I hadn't quite consumed currently dribbled down my chin in a hilarious fashion. "Wha-?"

Frowning, my earlier panic fades away as I watch Edward break down into laughter. Pursing my lips, I return the cup to it's matching gold and green embroidered plate, folding my arms over my chest as I narrow my eyes at the offending pirate, far from impressed. "You're an ass," I inform him rather matter-of-factly, raising an eyebrow as I survey my companion.

"Not my fault that you have the most hilarious expressions."

"Can I ask why we are even here?"

Edward frowns, "what do you mean? Clearly, we are relaxing under the brilliant sun with a _wonderful_ pot of tea and a collection of slightly stale scones, enjoying the sights of the city before departing for the wondrous town of Nassau."

"Sometimes I think you enjoy hearing the sound of your own voice," I sigh which was accompanied immediately by the rolling of my eyes.

"You asked, I answered."

"But _why?_ Why are we even relaxing when you and I both know that the entire city is on the lookout for Prins' murderers," I hiss, leaning forward so that only Edward hears my worry, "we should've left the moment we had the chance and yet, instead of doing just that - which I may add is the most _logical_ decision we have in our arsenal - we are _having tea?!"_

"You could be a little more appreciative," Edward complains, running a hand through his wild locks, titling back the chair so it rests only on its' two back legs, his feet resting atop the narrow table in order to support his newly distributed weight.

"I just think we're taking unnecessary risks."

For a moment, Edwards' eyes study my face intently as if he was trying to memorize each and every feature. Under his exploratory gaze, I feel my cheeks begin to burn and I shift uncomfortably in my seat, my eyes nervously flickering from one point to another, unsure where exactly I was the direct my view.

"I know you wanted to explore the town," Edward replies before I have a chance to rebuke him for his unwavering stare, startling me.

"After everything that's happened, you still recalled that I wanted to wander around Kingston?" I ask in disbelief, my chest tightening and my body beginning to tingle with feelings of warmth and affection as the meaning of our abrupt café visit finally begins to make sense.

"You didn't have to do this, Edward," I say softly, touched that he had taken into account my petty desires.

"I wanted to."

"But you didn't have too," I reaffirm, reaching out and placing my hand over his, giving it a light squeeze in order to physically convey my happiness.

Returning the pressure, Edward pulls my hand to his lips and places a delicate kiss on the back of my palm, slowly rubbing circles into the pale flesh in a manner that invited a sense of familiarity and comfort - it was, one of many actions that I associated with Edward alone. The simple, feather-light touch caused heat to tingle throughout my entire body, electrifying each and ever nerve with sparking desire that with a notable swallow, I push down... yet I do not remove my hand from Edwards, revelling in his touch for a moment longer - however, since admitting that my feelings were more than just a fleeting whim caused by my lack of a sex life, every touch seemed to alight within me desire (not that I never felt that before) and it became harder to resist Edward's charm.

I wanted to kiss him… I wanted to touch him… and if Edward and I ended up in a similar situation to that one time, I had no doubt that I would let him do whatever the hell he wanted to do with him… and I had no doubt that I would enjoy each and every moment.

"If you'd like to explore the city… now is the time to do so," Edward informs me, getting to his feet and thus pulling my body along with him, a roguish grin pulling up the corners of his lips.

"I would like to see the architecture," I admit, my free hand reaching for the pearl around my neck only… "Where is it?"

"Hmmm?"

"My pearl," I explain, releasing Edwards hand and subsequently patting myself down in a desperate attempt to locate it on my person, disappointment crashing down upon me the moment I cannot locate it, "it's gone."

"The one you purchased in Nassau?"

"Yeah… I really liked it too," I complain, taking his outstretched hand once more and, with a soft sigh, began to walk side-by-side down the dusty Kingston street, leaning into Edwards' warmth, "it was… kind of a lucky charm for me."

"Well then…" pulling me to a halt, Edward lets go of my hand and walks behind me, his arms encircling my waist as he breathes into my ear, "I suppose I made the right choice…"

"Pardon?" I ask, failing to suppress the pleasant shiver that ran down my spine as one arm loosened around my waist, the fingers on his now free hand gently caressing the flushed skin of my neck. Moments later, I feel Edwards grip around my waist completely disappear and a cold weight suddenly presses against the skin of my throat and chest, settling just above my heart. Looking down, my eyes widen as I take in the silver locket glistening against my white skin, my fingers reaching for the delicate ornament dangling around my neck in order to allow for my entranced tracing of the raised silver flowers and expertly crafted butterfly that lay sparkling in the sunlight atop an ornate vine backdrop.

Curling my right hand fully around the charm, I turn to Edward with a perplexed expression upon my face, "what's this?"

"Do you like it?" He asks instead, reaching out and tracing the silver chain lying across my flesh, causing more shivers to erupt along my body and thus goosebumps to rise on my skin.

"It's beautiful."

"But do you like it?" he persists, studying my expression as it shifts from one of confusion to one of awe and happiness.

"Of course I do, Edward!" I exclaim, "how could I not?"

"Good," he answers with a satisfied smirk, his arms once more snaking around my waist in a intimate embrace I did not think was entirely appropriate in this day an age, considering the appraising looks we were receiving from passersby… but all that seemed to be a distant concern.

It was only Edward and I… lost in a serene little bubble.

"Why?" I enquire softly, touching his cheek with only the tips of my fingers, feeling his entire body tremble under my light touch, surprised by the overwhelming satisfaction it causes when I realise that that response was because it was me touching him.

"Just… because," he replies with a shrug of his broad shoulders, a gentle smile twisting his lips as a surprisingly soft expression makes its way across his face.

"Well… thank you," I whisper, resting my forehead against his chest as his grip around my body tightens, holding my body as close as possible to his, the heat of his body pressing into mine causing my body to tremble with barely disguised want.

My throat felt parched and every fibre of my being ached with desire.

It was… unbearable.

"No need to thank me…" he murmurs, pressing a kiss atop the crown of my head, his fingers running through my unbound hair, untangling any knots with surprising ease and pure affection.

"It's polite," I mutter, my voice muffled as I still have my face buried into Edward's solid chest, my nose inhaling his all-to-familair scent, my fingers curling into fists against his chest as I close my eyes and visibly relax against his body.

"Consider it an early birthday gift, then."

Although the remark is not particularly funny, I find myself giggling as I found the comment in all of its entirety ridiculous, my eyes looking up at him with a glimmer of mischief and amusement, "it'd be a pretty early birthday present, considering that it's not till the end of the year."

For a moment, Edward stands there silently, processing the comment I had made. Upon computing with what it was I had conveyed, his grip slackens and his widen in a mixture of horror and guilt. With a splutter, Edward asks, "Tess… when exactly is your birthday?"

"Haven't I ever told you?"

Cue Edward shaking his head: no.

"Oh? Well then... it's December 24th."

"December 24th?! That was nearly half a year ago!"

"It's just a date," I shrug my shoulders, unconcerned, "I never really celebrated my birthday in the past anyways, considering that it was so close to Christmas."

"You never thought to tell me?"

"Did it ever matter?"

"Of course it did," Edward replies incredulously, pulling away slightly, one hand grazing my forehead as if checking my temperature, "the day that you were born is incredibly important to me."

I feel my cheeks flush red from my combined embarrassment and flattery. "Then," I whisper, fidgeting in Edward's embrace as I struggle to get the words out, "um… when's your birthday, Edward?"

"…"

"Tell me," I insist a little more firmly, tugging impatiently at his sleeve.

"Must I?" Edward inquires with a groan.

"Yes! Because…" my cheeks burn darker than they were before, embarrassment consuming my entire being, "like you said… the day that you were born is… well, it's special… it is to me."

"Oh."

I don't have to look at Edward to know that he too is blushing.

"March… March 4th," he informs me, running a hand awkwardly through his hair - a nervous tick of his… an adorable nervous tick.

"That… it's already passed," I answer rather glum, disappointment causing my shoulders to hunch forward and my body to sag. _I really wanted to surprise him with something too_ , I thought with a audible sigh which finished in a startled gasp.

 _Gods,_ I cringe, stepping out of his arms and retaking his hand, continuing our stroll through the old streets, occasionally tuning into Edward's quips and notes about the surrounding architecture and features of the city, my consciousness preoccupied with thoughts that were of a different and far more concerning nature. _I must be falling hard… correction, I must've fallen hard to worry over such things as birthday surprises… I never cared for them in the past._

 _But no one has ever been as important to me as Edward,_ I realise with a start and I know it's true.

My love for Desmond Miles seemed to dull in comparison to the feelings I thought for Edward Kenway - it was almost as if Desmond had been mere infatuation or a passing crush, although at the time it felt all-consuming. I still love Desmond - I always would - and I knew that in my heart was a place reserved only for him, just as there was a place in my heart only for Shaun and another for Rebecca… small cubbies that held endless amounts of equal happiness and sadness yet… Edward from day 1 had begun to slowly consume my consciousness until it was as if he was the only one that existed there, the only one that mattered - he had carved out a whole in my heart that he would always inhabit, no matter what changed.

 _I love Edward Kenway,_ I thought to myself, glancing at the animated man out from the corner of my eye, _"_ I love Edward Kenway…"

"Pardon?" Edward suddenly asks, turning his face towards mine, "did you need something, Tess?"

"No," I quickly answer, wishing that my cheeks would stop turning pink each and every time the guy happened to turn my way, give me a smouldering look, compliment me or fill me with an indescribable happiness.

"Okay…" he says slowly, his brow furrowing in confusion and suspicion but at my bright smile, the doubtful look fades and is replaced by one of concentration as he resumes his guided tour of Kingston - which I wasn't paying attention to in the slightest.

Releasing the breath I didn't know I was holding, I thank the gods that he didn't hear my indirect confession - I was quite confident that if he had, I would've died out of sheer mortification - and yet, at the same time I was a little… well… a little frustrated that he hadn't. The words, so foreign to me, had just been so natural atop my tongue, so easy to say and it was that ease which frightened me more than I could admit.

Love is a powerful emotion… and it terrified me.

"Do you ever think about going home?" Edward suddenly inquires, forcing me so unexpectedly from my thoughts that i stumble over my own feet and the only reason I don't fall flat on my face is because Edward is there to steady me, a half amused, half concerned look on his handsome face.

"Where did this come from?" I say rather loudly, my voice boarding on a shriek.

He shrugs, releasing his iron grip from my elbow that moment he is sure that I am able to balance on my own, "curiosity."

"Seriously?"

"I had… it's just that… it's been nearly three years since we met," Edward says softly, his eyes out of focus as the memory of that fateful day takes over his thoughts, "and from that moment you realised you were stranded… the moment you realised you weren't anywhere close to home, that had been your goal - return home as quickly as possible. All this time has passed by and yet, you're still here… I was wondering why."

"You'd be lost without me," I tease, attempting to cover my discomfort with jokes but of course, he saw right through it.

"I have put you through Hell, Tess."

"It hasn't been that bad…"

"Hasn't it?" Edward demands, a severe frown ruining his usually relaxed, confident demeanour. "I can't count the number of times you and I have been in a situation where one of us - or both of us - has nearly died… we've been dragged through Assassin Order shit, been attacked by Templars and Assassin's alike, faced deadly storms on the high seas… I've been fucking shot! And, because of me, you were forced to murder someone and that… that nearly destroyed you… and it nearly destroyed me."

"Edward," I whisper, reaching out to touch his face. My fingers remain pressed to his cheek for a couple of seconds before he impatiently pushes the slender digits aside, his face a mask of anguish - he was beginning to worry me.

"At first, yeah," I begin to tell him, trying to not let the worry over Edward's headspace or the hurt from being pushed away, distract me from explaining my side of the story, "it was hard… it was _so_ difficult adjusting to this new lifestyle. All I could think about was home, trying to find a way back to my family and my friends, back to the way of life that was so familiar and so natural and you… I just couldn't understand how you lived, what exactly went on in that head of yours. _But,_ I began to adjust and the days didn't seem to be as difficult, as long, as they had been at first. I began to enjoy experiencing everything you had to offer… I began to enjoy just being with you."

"Tess-"

"You have put me through Hell," I agree, cutting him off before he could say anymore, "but each and every moment has been worth it."

"And… do you still want to go home?"

That was a good question. Did I want to go back to my time? Did I want to return to my old way of life? Did I want to leave Edward?

It was without question that I missed Shaun and Rebecca and the familiarity desperately but, like I had told Edward, my life here hadn't been nearly as bad as I thought it would be - in fact, it had been better. I wasn't lying when I told him that I had begun to enjoy just being by his side… I loved the guy, after all… that kind of implied that I was content with the way my life had turned out so far.

Was it hard? Yes.

Did that mean I want to go back?

"No," I whisper.

"No?"

"No, I don't want to go home," I say a little louder, lifting my chin and facing him head on, my expression determined, "I _don't want to go home._ _"_

Grabbing my wrist, Edward pulls me into the shadow of the church, hiding us from the gazes of curious passerby's and turns me so it's my back pressed up against the great stone walls, still emitting heat despite the fact that the sun had progressed from that particular position in the sky ages ago. Pressing my body as close as physically possible to the church, Edward relinquishes the tight grip he has on my wrist in favour of placing that same hand on my hip, angling my body so it is perfectly aligned with his and close enough that it forces us to press against one another, the back of my skull resting against the wall as I gaze up at his shadowed face. His grey-blue eyes - those eyes I had come to know and adore - stared intensely into my face, the fire that I loved flaring to life once again, erasing any lingering worries I had over him, asking for permission.

So I gave it to him.

I can easily recall the first time Edward kissed me; it had been sudden and swift and had come to as abrupt of an end as it had begun and I can still remember the taste of his lips, the scent of his natural musk, the way his tongue entwined with mine as the kiss deepened and the way I felt so shaken by the suddenness yet so exhilarated. I can remember the guilt that had accompanied it, the feeling that I had betrayed the person I loved and the wrongness of the entire situation.

How could I ever have thought that it was so wrong to kiss this man.

Unlike that kiss on the beach, I threw myself into it with as much passion and affection as I could muster; my arms wrapped around his shoulders, my fingers twisting into the longer strands of his soft blonde hair - hair that I had ran my fingers through time and time again, this time relishing the silkiness of it all - and the moment his tongue pressed impatiently against my slowly swelling lips, I opened my mouth and allowed my tongue to twine with his in the very definition of a 'french kiss.'

But, just like that kiss on the beach, it comes to a quick end.

Reluctantly, we pull apart, desperately trying to inhale what air we could after that overwhelmingly breathless kiss. I never thought I would be so grateful for a wall; it supported, along with Edward's gentle but sure grip, the majority of my bodyweight, since my knees felt like jelly and I was sure to collapse the moment Edward let go… not that it appeared he would do so.

Pressing his lips against my forehead and the top of my head, Edward rests his chin atop the crown of my skull and releases an almost blissful sigh. "Wow," he murmurs, running his fingers slowly up and down my spine, a satisfied smirk twisting his lips.

"Mhmm."

"You've improved."

"I can't say you have," I tease lightly which quickly transforms into a breathless bout of giggles, accompanied by slight hysteria as Edward ferociously tickles my sensitive sides - it does nothing to dull that ache for him, however.

"Want to say that again?" he demands, twirling my body so my back presses against his chest as he continues to stroke my sides in a way that makes me convulse as gasp for air.

"N-no!" I squeal, trying to escape his grip yet I remain in his cage-like embrace; he had always been just a little too strong for me.

"Tess," he breathes, his warm breath tickling the shell of my ear and the back of my neck; an action which makes my entire body tremble in pleasure… it had been doing a lot of that lately when Edward was concerned.

"Mmmm," I moan, pressing my back up against his body and leaning into his featherlight caresses.

"Tess…"

"… Yes?"

Pressing a kiss to my shoulder and then to the side of my neck, I can barely hear Edward over the pounding of my heart and the rush of blood to my head, drowning in the pleasure he was inflicting upon me - it made me wonder if I was like just with him touching me and kissing me, what would I be like when we… well, when we ended up in _that_ situation?

"What do you want to do now?" he whispers, tilting my head back towards his so his lips can press gently against my own, "what do you want?"

Summoning what little courage I had left, I force the words out of my mouth.

"I… I want…"

"Yes?" Edward persists, stroking the silver chain that glitters proudly around my neck.

Deep breath: in… out.

"You."


	23. Important Author Note & Update

**An Important Note:**

In regards the review I recently had about Tess, concerning her aversion to killing, you're right, it is confusing. But, honestly, that was what I was going for. Think about it: an Assassin who doesn't want to kill - it's a real conundrum and it's one of my characters major flaws. There are many things that prevents Tessa from going forward in this story, and one these things is her reluctance to kill and it is something that she must move past in order to reach her full potential.

Tessa is aware that the Templars are, in a word, 'evil' - it's part of her training as Assassin and it is also important to point out that because of the Templars, her adoptive brother had to go into hiding, her best friend was killed, the guy she loved sacrificed himself to save the world. Her parents were also murdered by the organisation before she could even remember them; she knows they're the bad guys and must be stopped - but she also doesn't condone the Assassin's methods: she feels that both parties are attempting to play the role of God in some way or another.

It is important to note that, despite being an official Assassin and being taught the skills necessary to perform assassinations and defend herself from enemies, Tessa never partook in the physical portions of the mission (that is the physical assassination of an enemy) rather that was Desmond in her past (the future.) Tessa was, like Rebecca and Shaun, part of the reconnaissance I suppose you could say - it was her job to hack into secure systems to gather information, information she would pass onto Rebecca, Shaun or Desmond depending on what info she was instructed to find. So, it was her first time acting as an official assassin in Tulum and it was her first time executing a kill; I'm sure you can imagine the shock.

So yeah, it is a little confusing but that's what was meant to be: I think that the most important thing you should take away from this, dear reader, is that is a character flaw - and it was one that she will have to overcome. At this stage in the fanfic, Tess is at that point where she can kill if it is to defend herself or someone she cares about **but** it does not mean that she is comfortable doing so: this is what she needs to let go of… and I hope that you'll stick around to see if she can do just that.

\- AshTree13 xoxo

 **A Note on Updating:**

I apologise for the late update, readers and I thank you all for being so patient :) The next chapter update for Down The Rabbit Hole is scheduled for later tonight and will hopefully be proceeded by the next in approximately a week. It's still technically a filler chapter but it was leading in this direction at the conclusion of the last chapter... if you catch my drift. However, for fans of Anne Bonny, the lovely pirate will be making her appearance very soon, so look forward to it :) ^_^


	24. Chapter 21

**A/N:**

 **OMG I finally finished the goddamn chapter!**

 **I know I say these chapters are hard to write but I've never had quite a challenge as this particular one...**

 **I had so many problems trying to get the scene I imagined in my head onto paper... the first draft just didn't meet those expectations and I felt as if it was disjointed from the previous one - it was essential that there be a flow from chapter 20 to chapter 21 because these 'fillers' were meant to be hand in hand and without that, it just wouldn't make any sense.**

 **It's been FOREVER since Down The Rabbit Hole was last updated and I wanted to reward your patience - thank you for that, BTW - with a chapter that was engaging, lengthy and a little bit... well... intense (sexually) that continued where the last chapter left off seemingly perfectly. Anything less than that wouldn't be fair to all of you...**

 **Then there was the issues I had with my internet. I attempted to save the document on doc manager and well… let's just say my computer didn't like it. The internet was so slow that by the time it had processed what I was asking it to do, the save had been unsuccessful and most of the chapter had been lost. *insert screams of agony and frustration here***

 **Oh well… the chapter is here now and honestly, it's probably better than the original…**

 **There is 'mature' content in this chapter…. so please take note of that if you are uncomfortable reading smut (please be aware that I am still quite new at writing these scenes… so please forgive me for any mistakes or unintentional awkwardness.)**

 **ENJOY!**

 **AshTree13 xoxo**

 **P.S starting from now, sometimes at the beginning of a new chapter I will add song lyrics or poems or lines from novels that have inspired me as well as inserts from the previous chapters (this will usually happen when the chapter must flow directly from one to another in the same scene.) For this chapter, I have done both and if you haven't heard the song "Storm" (seen below) I highly recommend you do so... maybe you'll be able to understand where some of my inspiration came from.**

* * *

 _I'm caught off-guard by you_

 _Like a wave I pulled into_

 _It's a feeling I can't fight_

 _Like a wildfire, deep inside..._

 _I am torn apart by you_

 _It's a spell I can't undo_

 _Oh, I can't escape it now_

 _I'm in too deep to get out..._

 _You're taking my heart, by storm_

 _I'm lost in your love, lost in your love_

 _I can't hold back anymore_

 _I'm lost in your love, lost in your love_

 _You're taking my heart, by storm_

 _You're taking my heart..._

 **\- Ruelle: "Storm" -**

* * *

 _"What do you want… now?" he whispers… his lips… press[ing] gently against my own..._

 _Summoning what little courage I had left, I force the words out of my mouth..._

 _"… I want… you."_

* * *

 **Chapter 21:**

The usual intensity of the Kingston seafront had somewhat calmed in comparison to earlier that day, and yet, there was still barely enough room on the crowded street to proceed forwards without at least knocking elbows with one or two strangers. For the townsfolk this was of little consequence: in comparison to the early hours of the morning when everyone gathered at the markets to get first pick of the day, the crowd was hardly a bother and was consequently small. For Edward, it simply meant that it would be difficult to locate the one person with whom he had to speak with urgently.

No doubt his particular skill set would be extremely handy however, as he was trying to as discreet as possible, the large concentration of people lingering about the bay and carrying on with their lives was the perfect cover. Guards stood aside from the flow, observant eyes carefully studying each person that passed by or lingered to long and Edward couldn't be sure if they were looking for him - the man who murdered one of the most prodiment people in Kingston - or if they were just carrying on with their jobs.

Probably the latter but it didn't hurt to be cautious.

It was why he had left Tess behind... well, one of the reasons.

 _I want you_.

The words continually circulated throughout Edward's subconscious; he could picture her clearly - vibrant eyes usually sparkling with concealed mirth, dark with desire and an edge of seriousness that was almost foreign to his sight, portraying her sincerity. Her cheeks had been flushed a deep, rosy pink that made his heart pound uncontrollably and he could easily recall the way she pursed her glossy, red lips as she chewed the inside of her cheek; the way her mouth looked irresistibly kissable, spreading heat - not warmth - throughout his body to the point where he wanted to throw her lithe body over his shoulder and have his way with her out of the prying and no doubt judgemental gazes of the public.

instead, he had put his hand on her shoulders and suppressed the overwhelming urge to attack her mouth with a ferocity only she could illicit, offering to find her a room in which she could bathe and relax until departing from Kingston later that night, desperately trying to ignore the hurt that flashed in those doe-like eyes and the way her rosebud mouth dropped at the corners. Overlooking, with enormous effort, the heartbroken sigh and utterance of 'okay' as she took his hand and allowed him to return her to their claustrophobic and dark boarding room.

Edward's heart twisted painfully at the memory.

 _What the Hell is wrong with_ _me?_ he thought, flustered by the irrational thoughts flooding into his brain - most of which concerned running back to Tess, apologising for his rejection and then proceeding to do... well... do everything Tess had insinuated earlier; a ridiculous fantasy, considering he had already put the breathtaking woman in danger simply by choosing to linger in the city for the day but he knew she was desperate to explore the sprawling city (although he couldn't possibly understand why) and Edward was finding it increasingly difficult to deny such innocent requests from his the girl he loved. Edward was aware of his feelings; he loved her, he could no longer deny that mind-altering fact... what he couldn't process was why falling in love with Tessa had him turning on his head and bending over backwards to please and protect her. He had been in love before - was still in love with his gorgeous wife residing in Wales - and yet, he had never felt so... so... how could even describe it?

He couldn't: that was the fucking problem.

Withholding the defeated sigh lodged in his throat, Edward returned to the task at hand, taking a sharp left down to the docks - he'd almost walked right past the destination at hand, lost in thoughts about Theresa fucking North. Pulling back his hood, he ran a hand through the tousled dirty blond locks, a relieved smile gracing his exhausted expression as he came across exactly what he had been looking for, the knowledge that he could prepare for immediate departure putting a spring into his step. Finally, Tessa and himself could put the failures of Kingston behind them and head home... maybe they could about that incident... maybe it would lead to something that didn't involve talking...

And once again, his mind had returned to the damningly tempting woman he was trying so hard to forget.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

With a chuckle, Edward turns on his heel and accepts the one-armed embrace thrust upon him by his charming quartermaster, withdrawing a few seconds after to shake the hand of the dark-skinned man before in a hearty greeting. "Good to see you too, Adé," Edward says with a sarcastic roll of his eyes but in all honesty, he was incredibly pleased to find his quartermaster so easily, the threat of their dalliance weighing heavily upon his mind.

"And here I thought that the doctor had enforced bedrest as part of your treatment," the burly man chuckles, chocolate eyes wandering over his captain's form, noting his dishevelled appearance and way the he pressed most of his weight to the side that did not have a still-healing bullet wound marring his already scarred skin.

"Already healed," the captain protests, rolling his eyes - in truth, it still burned with every deliberating movement as if someone was pressing a branding iron to his side but he had barely thought about it when wandering about the city with Tess at his side; she had been a welcome distraction from the pain and now that she was no longer in his presence and now that Adé had brought the wound up in conversation, his side ached painfully as if taunting him for his foolish decisions.

He did no regret the decision to take the bullet for Tessa... it was the choice to leave her behind and alone that haunted him the most at this moment.

 _Stop thinking about her,_ his conscious nagged him.

He had to bite his tongue in order to not reply.

"Where's Tessa?"

"At a lodge," Edwards informs his crew-mate, casting his gaze towards the Jackdaw, watching carefully as the majestic ship swayed against the light current and the gentle breeze, offering greetings to the crew who noticed his presence and welcomed him cheerfully blissfully unaware of his exploits in the Caribbean port. "She's waiting for me to return," he continues after a moment of silence, "which I should do so shortly."

"Why not just bring her?"

He didn't know how to answer; of course, part of the reason was to keep her out of harms way but...

"She needed to rest," Edward says in reply. Pausing, he glared at his quartermaster, "why do want to know?"

Holding up his hands in surrender, Adéwalé chuckles, "because it is rare to not find that exotic woman by your side. I was curious, Captain, as to whether you had had a disagreement... or if the girl had run off and you were trying to find me in order to locate her whereabouts."

"I am... I am not _always_ with her."

"You don't even realise just how uncommon a sight this is," Adé teases with an impish grin, basking in the personal enjoyment he felt upon watching his captain, who was usually quick to present an argument that was infallible, struggle to formulate an retort to this observation.

After a painfully drawn out five minutes, Edward gave up attempting to dignify himself with a response, instead choosing to fold his arms over his chest and glare reproachfully at his friend in an attempt to cover his frustration and embarrassment. When Adéwalé's grin only widens, he allows the sigh that had been building to come forth, running a hand through his hair once more, gaze turned to the steadily darkening sky, dread squeezing his heart at the reminder that their time was running out.

"How quickly can you get the ship ready?"

"An hour at most," the dark man replies stoically, all traces of humour gone from his tone and expression the moment he detects the underlying urgency in his captains enquiry, "half hour at the least but not a moment earlier."

"It's time we return to Nassau, Adé," Edward admits with a sigh, reaching out to tenderly stroke the scarred hull of his ship, a faraway look in his eyes as he recalls the shores of Nassau, the one place he felt he truly belonged... the one place they'd be safe until further plans were made, "we've been away from the colony too long…"

"Is that the only reason?"

"It's the only reason you need," Edward retorts and his quartermaster falls silent, his own gaze following his captains', picking out the stars daring to shine despite the suns lingering presence.

"What shall you do Captain, with your remaining time?" he eventually asks.

"I shall fetch Tess," Edward replies with a notably soft smile, "I'm sure she'd be quite disappointed if we left without her, even if she does love the city."

 _I wonder if he even notices,_ Adéwalé thought to himself - observing the way his friend spoke about the bright, fair-skinned girl he too found quite charming - _just how much he cares about her._

"Can I trust you to have the Jackdaw ready to depart the moment I return?"

"Of course," Adéwalé declares proudly, slapping the hull of the ship for emphasise, "she'll be ready and waiting… as will the crew. I think they'd like to put Kingston behind them, perhaps catch a few prizes on the way?"

"Whatever makes them happy," Edward concedes, very much aware that the crew needed to be indulged occasionally or else there would be a mutiny on his hands and at this present time, he desperately wanted to avoid such an occurrence; at least, until he sorted out their priorities. "Well," turning on his heel, he raised a hand in farewell and slowly began the trek back to the hotel in which Tessa would be patiently waiting, "I'll be off then."

"Captain!"

Pausing midstep, Edward threw a glance over his shoulder, eyebrow raised in enquiry.

"Enjoy yourself," the quartermaster taunts, the impish grin returning to his strong features.

Ignoring the burn of his cheeks - no doubt it was particularly noticeable with the red glow of the sunset - Edward continues his lengthy stride down the docks, turning around only to give his friend the finger and a less than discrete 'fuck you.' However, though he would rather be shot again than admit it to himself, the weight that had sat upon his chest seemed to dissipate at the thought of returning to the doe-eyed, red-haired beauty.

Disappearing into the steadily thinning crowd, only one word crosses his mind: _Tess._

0-0-0-0-0-0

 _What's taking Edward so long?_

As I sink lower into the murky depths of my bath, fear grips my heart, the possibility that he may not return reverberating throughout my consciousness. Try as I might to remove myself from those poisonous thoughts, the prospect that he may not return - whether it be an attempt to once again place me out of harms way or because he was… no, I refuse to consider that option - weighed me down and preoccupied my train of thought. Paired with embarrassment for my earlier actions and the inner turmoil of my heart, the entire situation was giving me a headache.

I draw my knees to my naked chest, resting my flushed cheeks against the glistening skin and allowing a deep sigh to escape, a sigh which expressed my... my what?

Disappointment? Worry? Frustration? Fear? Anger?

Perhaps all of the above.

With a soft groan, I watch the water droplets carve a glistening path across my pale skin, until they once more find sanctuary in the cloudy water. What was I doing, really?

The truth was that I had no clue.

My heart was in complete turmoil.

When I closed my eyes, I could picture the events of the afternoon almost as if I were reliving them - I could feel every electrifying touch, inhale the familiar and foreign scents that hung in the breezeless air, see the dark flecks of azure in Edward's handsome grey-blue eyes, hear the sounds of our combined pleasure and the whispered words of promise that promptly set my cheeks ablaze. Covering my burning face, I take a deep breath and plunge myself beneath the cool water, hoping that the icy depths would force myself out of these memories. Removing my hands, I observe the water encasing my body in a cool embrace, watching the red strands of my hair float about my face in a kind of unearthly dance, the bubbles I blow immediately disappearing from sight; I wish those nagging ideas and fantasies would vanish as easily and quickly as those bubbles.

I doubt that would ever happen - as my brother used to point out, I had the tendency to always focus on the minor details, the details that often made little sense, that often sent us round in circles… the unnecessary details that were in no situation helpful.

I hated it when he proved to be right.

My heart aches at the thought of my stubborn, pig-headed sibling. As much as we frequently irritated one another, our lifestyle - particularly the dangers it posed - meant that we had grown to depend on the other and, despite our frequent arguments and continuous looks of utter contempt, it had brought us closer together. I knew that I could always depend on him and yet, when I needed his advice the most, when I needed his words of wisdom - although he lacked in that department quite severely - and comfort, he was centuries in the future.

 _Oh Shaun,_ I think to myself, brushing back strands of my sodden hair and inhaling the stale air, _I miss you._

I wonder if they missed me - Rebecca and Shaun. I wonder if they were looking for me, trying to find a way to bring me home; that is, if they were aware that I had somehow been thrown back into the past. Maybe they had given up all hope of ever seeing me, after all it had been quite some time since I had even been thrown into the this era of historical significance, they probably believed me to be dead.

And, in all honesty, even if they did manage to find a way to bring me back into my appropriate time… would I want to go?

 _Like hell you would,_ a spiteful little voice whispered in my ear, _because you're in love with Edward and you want to-"_

"No!" I cry, banishing the thoughts from my mind but with little success.

 _You know you love him and you know if the choice was given to you, you would choose-_

"I'd choose home," I inform the empty room, desperation evident in my reply.

 _Would you?_ The voice challenges.

Would I?

 _"_ Yes…?" I whisper, entirely unconvinced.

It was the very question Edward had posed earlier... and yet it was an entirely different answer; clearly, I was a fickle person, more so than I realised.

I wanted to stay... I want to stay so badly that it almost hurt but, at the darkest corner of my mind, I knew that I had to go back or at least continue trying until every option was exhausted. I didn't belong here, no matter how much I wish that I did... the feelings that I have for Edward, those feelings that left my heart racing and myself breathless, the feelings that had me feeling as if I could do anything... they weren't right and they were holding me back from making logical decisions that would have a massive impact if I chose incorrectly. The fact was, Edward had a predetermined path set out before him, a fate that I had already meddled with by dropping into his lap and I had no clue whether or not our time together had already messed with his precious timeline. If I was to take a guess, I was sure that by this point in time I had had some impact on the fragile continuum.

Aware of this, how could I not fight my way back to my older brother? To my best friend? To my _home?_ If I wasn't going to return for their sake, the least I could do was return for Edwards' - I had no idea how I was to achieve, even after three years of half-hearted searching and minimalist attempts, the very feat that would see me escaping this rabbit hole.

But... but I still wanted to stay... didn't I?

With a soft sob, I bury my face in my hands.

 _Damn it! What's wrong with me?_

This time, that deafening, irritating voice that perpetuated my mind, did not answer and I sat in that brown bathwater at a loss of what to do, tears staining my already damp cheeks.

 _When did I become such a cry baby?_ I thought, brushing away the bothersome tears, _I don't think I've every cried as much as I have living in this era._

To cry was to be weak and when you lived the way I lived, weakness easily singled you out; you wouldn't survive long with that target painted on your back, let me tell you. Maybe it was all the pent up frustration and angst that I had been unable to shed as a child... more than likely, it was a direct result of all the pressure and fear and general confusion that came with my peculiar situation; I didn't usually consider myself a walking sob story but it was hard to keep everything bottled up inside. That being said, I was sick and tired of fighting against the feelings that raged inside of me, exhausted from battling against the tide, from trying to escape these thoughts and feelings that held me captive. I wanted to _live.._.

It was easier said than done.

Truly, I didn't need to screw up my life more than I already had.

 _Honestly,_ I groan, resting the back of my skull against the cool rim of the tub, my eyes tracing the now familiar cracks of the ceiling, _I'm a walking, talking, fucking_ _disaster._

With that in mind that I grip the edge of metal tub, heaving my suddenly exhausted body out the grimy depths, shivering the moment I'm exposed to the cool interior of the darkened room. Gently, I brush off the remaining water that clings to my skin and wrap my arms around my torso in what appeared to be a half-hearted attempt to shield myself from the cold chill. After a second of hesitation - and I literally mean a second - I reach for the thin robe draped over the simplistic dressing screen, sighing when my fingers merely brush against the soft, thin fabric; clearly I was too short to reach the article of clothing when standing in the low-level bathtub. Tucking the wispy strands of my hair behind my ears, I steady myself and carefully lift a leg out of the tub - a difficult feat considering that my hims were well below the rim - and once more, attempt to reach for the robe.

Of course, it's moments like these - moments of the purest simplicity - when everything gets shot to Hell because, lets face it, nothing in my life can ever go to fucking plan.

Before I can register the fact that the majority of my body is floating in the air, I fall into the filthy bathwater with a resounding crash, the left side of my head colliding - quite spectacularly - against the sharp, metal edge of the bath. I feel my teeth sink into my tongue, filling my mouth with blood which is unceremoniously spat out the side of the tub the moment I can steady myself and sit upright. It's a struggle to to remain upright with the world as blurred and spinning as it was, a splitting headache pounding against my skull right behind my eyes. Upon touching the side of my head, I flinch when my fingers come away coated in a fine layer of blood, wincing when the shrill tone of my voice causes my head to throb in protest: " _shit!"_

A knock reverberates about the room, followed swiftly by a deep, familiar voice that chills my blood and squeezes my heart: "Tess?"

 _Why?_ I cry out silently, barely able to contain the soft moan of despair building at the back of my throat, _Out of all the opportune moments, he had to reappear at this exact moment!_

 _"_ Tess?" Edward calls out again, his knuckles rapping at the thin wood of the door, voice tinged with confusion and concern, "What's going on in there?"

"I-I'm fine," I call out, desperately attempting to remove myself from my watery confines, all the while battling against the resounding headache pulsating through my head.

"That doesn't answer my question... but good to know," however, judging from the disbelief in his tone, he didn't believe that I was 'fine' at all.

"Nothing happened," I answer quickly, wincing once more as my head twinges.

"I heard a crash..."

"It was nothing... I..." desperately, I try to think of a way to deter him, mortified at the possibility that he could see me both naked and bleeding profusely in the tub, "I'm in the bath!"

"Oh," an awkward mumble and then "... I'm coming in."

"WHAT! No, don't come i- _ah_..." with a soft whimper, I clutch my head and draw my knees to my chest. Resting my forehead on the cool skin of my thighs as the headache persists, my eyes burn and blood steadily drips from the gash on my head. It stains the already cloudy water a vibrant red that then clings to my ivory skin. Raising my head at the distinct _click_ of the door opening, I turn away from the single entrance and press my shivering body closer to the side of the cool tub. Hiding my face from Edward's gaze, I press a hand to the cut and pray that he cannot see the steady stream of crimson leaking out between my fingers and trickling down my elbow, taunting me.

I know I hope in vain.

Edwards' eyes are as sharp as that of a hawks... it would be highly unlikely for him to miss such an obvious wound so of course, he manages to pick up on it the moment those handsome azure eyes settle upon my hunched figure.

"What happened?" I feel his hand touch the skin of my shoulder, urging me to face him head on. I shiver at his gentle touch, warmth spreading throughout my body and despite the awful pain that has me practically crippled, I still find myself fantasying about those clever fingers wondering lower and lower, exploring my skin, my body and memorising each and every curve, bump and imperfection.

"I... I slipped," I mumble, cursing myself for the way my cheeks burn.

"Let me see."

"No."

"Tess," his voice is stern but is also laced with concern and a kind of gentleness that is so very rare but so very dear to me... so much so that, with a resigned sigh, I carefully turn my face towards his, unable to stop myself from whimpering when his thumb glides across the laceration despite the tenderness beneath his touch.

"How bad is it?" I ask, although in truth I'd rather not hear.

"I don't think it needs stitches but... I should probably clean it to make sure."

"That bad huh?"

"Truthfully, head wounds always bleed more," his eyes flicker briefly from examining my wound to studying my face, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "but how the Hell did you manage to do this?"

"I told you," I sigh with an impatient role of my eyes and a quick shake of my head, which I instantly regret: "oh... _ow_!"

"Idiot, stop moving your head," his fingers grab my chin and hold my face in place as he continues to study the gash, his free hand dipping into the freezing water and applying said liquid to side of my forehead, cleaning away the blood that obscures the severity of the wound. "You slipped... how'd you slip?"

"Ummmm," flushing in embarrassment, I hunch my body over to avoid exposing my chest and point to the discarded cotton robe, avoiding those amused, inquisitive eyes as I mumble my explanation: "trying to reach that..."

A short but noticeable laugh bursts forth from his enticing lips.

"It's not funny," I complain, but I can't hold back the smile turning up the corners of my lips as I slap at his chest playfully.

"You have to admit that it _is_ pretty funny."

" _Edward!_ "

"I mean," he continues, that smirk of his lighting up his handsome features, his skilful fingers working away at the cut with careful precision, "I knew you were clumsy but-"

"I am _not clumsy_ ," I retort with a huff, cringing at the sharp pain that erupts soon after - a painful reminder of my earlier blunder.

"Says the girl who slipped and hit her head on the side of the tub."

"You're an ass."

"And you're an idiot," he says but the affectionate chuckle that soon follows informs me that his intentions are... well not pure as per say but certainly innocent - oh, who was I kidding? 'Edward' and 'innocent' were two words that would never _ever_ go together... it was simply unimaginable that the colossal prick was in any way virtuous.

It was then that I realised he was probably trying to diffuse the tension, make this situation bearable - and I don't think I had ever loved him more than I did in that very moment.

"You have to admit, it's pretty funny."

"You're an ass."

"And you're an idiot."

"And we're getting nowhere," I point out, slapping at his chest. I groan as the movement causes my head to tinge in pain and Edward reaches for me, pulling my head to his chest, one hand cupping the back of my head to hold it still whilst the other trails down the length of my spine.

"Just relax," he murmurs soothingly, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head.

And I do.

For a moment, we sit there, Edward's arms wrapped around my torso, mine now gripping the front of his slightly damp shirt, enjoying the quiet. We listen to the muffled voices floating around the crumbling inn, the muted voices drifting up through the window from the streets of Kingston, alive once again with a different kind of excitement than the one that perpetuated the atmosphere during the day. It was all rather peaceful and pleasant, almost as if Edward and I had hit pause on our busy, danger-filled life.

"I've asked Adé to get the Jackdaw ready for departure," Edward says after a while, pulling away from me ever-so-slightly, his fingers catching my chin and tilting it up so his cool gaze clearly meets mine, "I know you enjoy Kingston but we've overstayed our welcome."

"I understand," I tell him with a nod of my head.

He leans forward then and kisses me, whispering into my mouth, "we can come back again."

I know he's only saying that for my sake - there's very little chance of Edward and I returning to Kingston, especially together. It would be too dangerous and Edward, I knew, would take no chances with my safety even though I had proven myself time and time again that I could defend myself. Yet, despite knowing all this, I abandon my earlier reservations about showing my body to his keen eyes and put my arms around his neck, kissing him deeply.

Edward is the one to pull away, his eyes conflicted as he studies my flushed cheeks and the quick rise and fall of my chest. Reluctantly, he removes my arms from his neck and gets to his feet, brushing off the dust that has embedded itself into his clothes. He moves towards the white discarded negligee, picking it off the floor before approaching my shivering form in the tub. "Up," he tells me.

I grip the edge of the tub and pull myself upright, slowly, carefully. I try to ignore the frantic pounding of my heart as Edward watches the cloudy water trail across my dripping body, his eyes lingering on my breast which are hard and peaked from the cold and the space between my thighs - his eyes grower steadily darker the lower they roam and I consciously press my thighs together, bowing my head in embarrassment. I feel something soft and cool cover my skin and then I find myself being lifted into the air.

With a squeal, I wrap the robe tighter around my body and stare up at Edward, unable to disguise my blatant shock as he removes me from the tub and strides towards the door with a quick, light step that barely disrupts the creaky floorboards.

"Edward-" I begin, clutching at the thin fabric as I stare up at him wide-eyed.

Using his body, Edward pushes upon the door and ignores my protests as turns down the corridor, catching the eye of a lingering maid as he does to my absolute horror. "We're done with the bath," he informs her shortly, strolling past her with my wet and practically naked in his arms without so much of a blink or stumble in his step - the maid on the other hand is flushed red right to the tips of her dark hair as she notes the state of disarray I am in, unable to meet Edward's intense gaze.

"Of course sir."

"And we'll be leaving shortly, so the room we booked will be available in half an hour," he continues, not even bothering to look over his shoulder, finding his way quickly and surely to the small, decrypted room we had been using for the duration of our stay.

He doesn't bother to wait for the poor girls reply, kicking open the door to our tiny, _tiny_ room that was barely illuminated by the small candle stand and minuscule window that adorned the room. There was a kind of shadowy atmosphere that clung to the small room and it was so cramped that it was nearly impossible to walk around the bed to the tiny armoire shoved against the back wall - the ceiling was slanted, sagging slightly in the centre, and was cracked so badly that I couldn't recall the number of times I had gone to sleep since arriving here, praying that it wouldn't rain.

But none of that mattered to Edward as he took the few short strides to the bed.

"What are you-?"

And then presses his lips against mine in a kiss that steals all of my rational thoughts along with my breath.

He drops me unceremoniously atop the bed and I have to lie there for a moment, blinking as if that will help settle my muddled thoughts.

"I can't- I mean I- why'd you- What the Hell?"

I can't get the words out of my mouth but I'm sure Edward understands what I am trying to say; the way his mouth pulls into a cocky smirk, the way his eyes sparkle with amusement, the husky laugh that rasps out of him all inform me that he is very much aware of my embarrassment. Looming over me, he captures both of my wrists and holds my arms above my head, settling his body at the side of the small, dust-covered bed. He reaches out and brushes the back of his hand against my flushed cheek, the smile on his lips widening as he takes in my rosy, partially concealed body. Edward then brushes his fingers down side; slowly, intoxicatingly - a shiver runs down my spine and I can't look away from his dark gaze, even as every fibre of my being urges me to run and hide. That hand with its masterful fingers trace a path from my temple - catching a loose strand of hair there, he brings the copper-red strands to his mouth and pecks the dark, damp bangs before tucking the curls behind my ear where he then continues to my neck, stroking the skin where my pulse flutters before he leans forward and presses a long, biting kiss to my throat.

 _Did he just give me a hickey?_ I think wildly, unable to make sense of my jumbled thoughts as heat flooded my trembling body.

And if he did, did I care?

It's almost as if Edward has me under some kind of spell... and I find myself, despite my initial hesitation and awkwardness, that I was more than willing to accept Edward's featherlight touch.

Releasing my wrists, Edward continues his exploration of my partially concealed body, one hand caressing my waist while his other trails his calloused fingertips across my shoulder and then my collarbones, pecking occasionally at my skin and leaving soft red marks in his wake. Finding that my breathing has become unsteady, Edward looks up at my from his perch by my left shoulder, eyes twinkling with mischief as his gaze roams over my flustered expression and then the slope of my breasts, his thumb brushing over my peaked nipples, a delighted grin illuminating his features as a low moan wrestles its way from my parted lips. But it's when those talented digits roam down the length of my stomach, my abdomen before lightly stroking the inside of my thigh that I feel my body tense, my breath hitching as warmth pools in my core.

 _Edward_ , I sigh to myself, resting the back of my skull against the cold lumpy mattress, my chin tilted towards the ruined ceiling, eyes closed as I feel myself begin to descend into a wave of pleasure.

 _It's not like the first time he touched me,_ I think, turning onto my side as I feel the bed dip as the weight upon it increased. The mattress groans as it sinks directly behind my body, Edwards solid warmth pouring over me as his broad hands slide over and under me: one traces my ribs before settling over my flat stomach, tugging my back - covered only by the flimsy cotton robe - against his strong chest, whilst the other slides underneath my ribcage and arm, passing over my chest where he resumes his tender caress of my breasts, deliberately avoiding the swollen peaks of my nipples.

 _When he last touched me like this... I didn't love him like I do now._

I still loved Desmond back then - I still do - but everything was different now... and that made it all the more confusing for me to find myself in this situation. I was drowning in his embrace and I wanted him to continue touching and stroking my flushed body and yet, some part of me wanted him to stop, some part of me wanted to turn tail and bolt.

I lift a hand and reach over my shoulder, my fingers brushing against his his cheeks, faintly tracing the contours of his face. I feel him shudder, his arms tightening around my body.

" _Tess_ ," he breathes, the words hot on the back of my neck, his hand splaying across my stomach and my chest, thumb pressing down on the hard surface of my bosom eliciting a soft, desirous whimper from my mouth.

"You wicked thing," he continues, nose grazing my exposed neck, his hot breath caressing my skin, "making noises like that... completely unfair if I do say so myself."

"You really want to argue who's being more cruel?" I tease, burying my face in the bedding as his fingers begin to make lazy stroke across my stomach, one finger in particular swirling around my navel. Something hard pushes against my backside then and I feel myself go taunt and loose all at once; inching as close as I can, I grind up against him and brush my fingers once again over his cheek, moving past his stubble-covered chin to his neck: he twitches against my backside, brushing his lips against my neck as he moans into my touch. I arch my back against him, urging his other hand to palm at my chest of which he immediately obliges, his fingers circling around one of my peaked nipples, occasionally squeezing the hard flesh to my conflicted delight.

"What are you thinking, Tessa?" Edward murmurs, teeth scraping against my neck before nipping at my earlobe.

 _More, more, more, more._

I can see myself begging him to touch me more, but by some willpower, I keep my lips sealed even as he fingers travel down the slope of my breasts and the other, equally proficient hand continues to idly stroke along the length of my stomach... my abdomen. Those crafty fingers go slowly - so painfully slow - down my skin, towards where the heat that continues to build and ache.

"What are you thinking?" He repeats, knuckles caressing my nipples. I bow into the touch, silently begging for more because no matter how many times he asks me, I don't have the willpower to explicitly ask for his touch. I can feel how hard he is and I take advantage of that, grounding hard against him to emphasise my desire, the movement against him causing Edward to hiss softly, wickedly, his body pressing harder against me so that there was no space between our bodies, effectively eliminating the possibility of _me_ caressing _him_.

"Just let me touch you," he says in a guttural tone that was barely recognisable, palming my breast and trailing lazy lines on my stomach for extra emphasis. He slides his fingers once more towards my heated core, deliberately dancing around the heat and stroking the inside of my thighs, causing me to anxiously shift and arch against him as if i could get that tricky hand to slip exactly where I wanted it, subconsciously spreading my legs to allow him easier access.

"Please," I whisper, barely managing to get the word out.

I can feel him smile against my neck - the taunting bastard - however, all of my irritation vanishes when his hand at last brushes against me, dragging a groan from deep in my throat.

Edward himself groans in satisfaction at the wetness he finds waiting for him, his thumb circling that spot at the apex of my thighs, brushing up against it in a teasing manner but never quite touching it, to my increasing frustration. I turn my head imperceptibly over my shoulder, about to scold him for his unnecessarily and merciless teasing but I lose all train of thought as his hand - the one fondling my chest - gently squeezes my breast, his thumb pushing down in that same moment exactly where I wanted him to.

I buck my hips, my head resting full back against his shoulder as he thumb flicks over my centre. I am unable to hold back my soft cries as his fingers slide down, slow and brazen, straight though the core of me, his fingers poised their as if he had all the time in the world to tease but never truly-

" _Bastard_ ," I grit out, grinding my ass against him.

"Tessa," he slightly scolds, although he can't help the strangled hiss that works its way out of his throat from the contact.

For a moment, I'm stunned by my boldness and the power I evidently have over him in this situation - almost as much power as he has over me - but pleasure soon overtakes that thought as Edward slides a single finger inside of me.

I hear Edward swear as I start to gently rock my hips, moving on him. I groan at the pleasure he inflicts with that single digit, closing my eyes I begin to truly lose myself in his embrace, in his touch: Edward's answer to my satisfaction is a kiss pressed into my neck, which progresses into a series of soft, hot pecks that move up and up towards my ear. He bites the shell of my ear as he slides a second finger inside of me, and I feel myself tighten around his fingers in response to the bliss he bestows upon me, feeling as if I could barely breathe - I certainly can't think straight.

Twisting my body as much as I could, I find Edward staring at me with dark, hungry eyes: watching me, watching the way I moved on him. He was still watching me with those intelligent, sharp eyes when I captured his mouth with my own, biting down softly on his bottom lip, inhaling his low groan.

In response, those fingers plunge deeper inside of me and stroke me harder.

I open my mouth at his insistence, yielding to him fully as his tongue sweep in, moving in such a way that made it plaintively obvious that he would know exactly what to do if he was between my legs - hinting at the pleasure such a touch would bring me. His fingers plunged in and out, slow and hard and all I could think about was the way he felt, the way I tightened around him with each and every stroke, every echoing thrust of that tongue roaming in my mouth.

I was so close, teetering on the very edge. I knew that with just a couple more strokes, a few more featherlight brushes across my breasts that I'd find my release and come completely undone. I was so very close that I could taste the cry on my lips and I moved my hips harder against his fingers, moved faster on him -

Yet the cry that finds its way into the room is not one of pleasure but one of lose.

I try to move closer to Edward but he pulls away, seductively licking at his fingers, cleaning my very essence off his tanned digits as he admires my trembling, near limp body.

"Edward," I whisper, pleading with my eyes for him to return to my side, to continue where he left off.

But, beneath my desire I feel a sense of relief flood through my senses - clearly, some small part of me was glad that he had stopped yet I couldn't really begin to understand why because that was...

"When I fuck you," Edward says roughly, looming over me, gripping my hand as it slides over his chest in a half-assed attempt to pin him to the bed, "I want to be entirely alone - far away from anyone who may unintentionally or intentionally interrupt us. I want you splayed out on the bed - or even on a fucking table - like my own personal feast, one that I will take my time to enjoy..."

I whimpered, the very thought of it turning me to liquid.

"I've thought about this for a long time - since that night at Tulum and again this afternoon after those sinfully delicious words you whispered to me," Edward says, pressing his face into my neck, fingers trailing down my sides, touching the sodden fabric of the bathrobe before resting them against my hips, holding them down. "I have no intention of making love to you in such a short amount of time. Nor do I fancy fucking you in a room where I can't even fuck you against the wall... and I'm not going to touch you like that, make love to you like you want me to until you know for certain that it is exactly what you want."

"But-"

"I will not fuck you Tess unless you want to me as well... I will not have you hesitate the next time I have you on you back or on your stomach, when I'm fully prepared to fuck you into oblivion," he pauses, eyes searching me, "because I will fuck you even if you don't want me to... I'm at my limit."

"I would want you to... I want you to now," I whisper, turning my head to the side when my cheeks burn at my blunt answer.

"Do you really?"

That makes me hesitate and, seeing that, Edward climbs off the bed and runs a hand through his tousled hair, breathing deeply through his nose as if trying to calm himself. He looks over his shoulder at me, where I sit upright baring my practically naked body to him and sighs.

"Get dressed... we're leaving in ten."

"Edward," I begin to say but he's already crossed the room and out the door without a backward glance.

And so Edward leaves me there atop the bed, breathless and unsatisfied and unsure what to do.


	25. Chapter 22

**A/N: Hello everyone, I hope I've been missed and I hope you've been eagerly awaiting the next chapter to this fanfic. I apologise for such an absence; various circumstances prevented me from uploading and I apologise like, a million times, for such a long break between chapters. I've really missed writing about Edward and Tessa and the rest of their merry (?) band of misfits and I'm so glad that I can bring you the next chapter.** **Well, I hope you enjoy this next** **instalment and I can honestly promise that the next one won't be too far off - as my uni semester comes to end and I get more and more free time, the possibilities to update this fanfic just get bigger and bigger :)**

 **Please enjoy lovelies,**

 **\- AshTree13 xoxo**

 ***edited 12th Nov**

* * *

 _… Waking up from a fantasy_

 _And all that's left is you and me…_

 _How do [we] fly with no wings_

 _and how do [we] breathe without [our] dreams…_

 _changing…_

 _wearing thin [our] heart[s]_

 _and there's no place [we] call our own_

 _Like a drifting haze we roam_

 _[so] where do we go from here?_

 **\- Ruelle, 'Where do we go from here?' -**

* * *

 **Chapter 22:**

"Anne. Anne Bonny."

Hand outstretched, the beautiful - it was perhaps the only way to describe the redhead - woman curled her lips into an almost blinding smile, green eyes sparkling with unbridled anticipation and excitement. She was a striking figure to behold; fair skinned that was unblemished save for a few freckles dusting her naturally rosy cheeks and red hair that was nothing if not reminiscent of a ruby. She was slender yet voluptuous, the garments she wore tailored especially to suit the natural curves of her body and the fullness of her breasts; emphasising the latter were an array of leather necklaces, placed in such a manner that it would no doubt draw attention to her generous chest.

She was, in every way, gorgeous.

"Hi," I say, somewhat intimidated by the beautiful woman before me, taking her slender hand and noting the way her skin was smooth to the touch.

Pr _etty enough then, to not have done much hard labour,_ I thought with a small smile, withdrawing my hand.

"That's the best you got, North?".

Rolling my eyes, I turn to face my employer, "well, what else am I supposed to say, Tom?"

Affectionately known by some as Old Tom, and known by all as 'that Old Git,' the owner of 'that old, rundown tavern where we go to get pissed,' my boss folds his wry arms across his chest and glares at me with those dark brown, all seeing eyes of his from his perch behind his beloved bar.

A small, gap-toothed man, Tom wasn't exactly fearsome but his many years aboard a ship and knowledge of the wider world made him someone to be respected - he had been a part of the Pirate Republic from day one, earning his keep by trading and distributing a variety of alcoholic beverages to the drunken alcoholic louts who called themselves pirates. It was Tom who hired me as a barmaid back when I had first arrived in Nassau and it was he was had taught me much about the politics of the state when Edward could (or would) not; he was like family and I suppose he thought the same about me, since he usually let our good natured banter and arguments slide when normally he would kick men out of his bar for challenging his superiority.

"How about 'ello Anne, welcome to the Old Avery'?" he suggests, "nice and simple."

"No shit, really?" I say sarcastically with a roll of my eyes.

"Talking back are you, North?"

"Just pointing out your apparent stupidity."

"Picking a fight?" Tom growls, slamming his hands down on the bar, startling a few lounging patrons.

"Yes, Tom, that's exactly what I was trying to do. Congrats you've foiled my master plan," I say, throwing my arms up in defeat.

"Is it always like this?" Anne cuts in, raising a delicate eyebrow, a small smile playing on her rosy lips.

"'Fraid so," Tom answers with a solemn nod and a thumb jerked in my direction, "this one don't know when to quit."

"Hey!" I reply rather indignantly, my cheeks going red with embarrassment, "I'm not the one who finds a reason to fight when there is none!"

"You trying to say I'm short-tempered?"

"Obviously."

"Why I-"

"Hehe," Anne interrupts once more with a harmonious giggle. It breaks through the rising tension as easily as a cannonball can cut through the hull of a ship, her green eyes studying the pair of a us as the corners crinkle in laughter.

"You guys seem close," she says with an almost wistful look.

"I can't get rid of her," comes Tom's blunt reply.

"You'd be screwed if you did," I retort.

Another giggle burst forth from Anne, "I think it'll be great working here."

And, for the first time sInce this debacle began, it all made sense.

"Since when were we hiring?" I ask Tom, confusion knitting my brow. Realising how that may sound to our new co-worker, I quickly correct myself with a smile, "not that I'm against it or anything… just confused."

"It's ok, Miss North," she says with a smile that put the sun to shame, "it was quite a sudden decision on Mr Tom's part. In all honesty, I didn't expect him to take me so seriously when I asked if there was a job available."

"He likes taking in strays," I say rather bluntly, a statement that seems to amuse Anne.

"Not only does Anne have charm and grace and the ability to attract new customers… but we are in dire need of actual servers who can do their bloody job."

"We have Bessie," I argue, picturing the rather plump but friendly woman who often regained our customers with songs of bravery and piracy and tales lost loves and the open seas, with a voice that was arguably angelic. She also knew how to play a mean fiddle and was honestly one of the nicest people in Nassau - unless you pissed her off, then she could knock you down with one quick right-hook.

Gotta love a woman who could serenade you and then proceed to knock you out cold.

"I'll admit that Bessie has her merits; she's certainly entertaining," Tom sighs, stroking his chin as he thought, "but the reality is that I can't expect her to entertain our guests and serve them, it's just not practical. Besides… she's clumsy as fuck and I really don't want to have to replace all of my plates - _again._ Cost a lot to have them replaced the last time she stumbled."

"I'm sure Hornigold or Blackbeard - even Vane - will sell you another set."

"And charge me a pretty penny to do just that," Tom complains. "Anne stays, end of discussion."

"I don't mind Anne staying," I begin patiently, "I was just-"

"Good," Tom declares, clapping his hands together as he cuts me off, evidently deciding that the conversation was at its end, "Anne stays and charms the pants off our patrons, Bessie can focus on her energy on entertaining our delightful guests and _you_ can train Anne. Sound good?"

"Yeah, yeah, I- _"_ I start, sarcastically nodding along to Tom's lecture but then realising what I agreed to, turning to him with wide, accusing eyes, "- wait _what?!"_

With a toothy grin, Tom removes himself from behind the cracked and worn bar, reaching for an empty barrel of rum which he tucks under his wiry arm. Looking from Anne to me, he chuckles under his breath and pats my arm, "have fun, Lass."

"You selfish fuck," I cry, stomping my foot like a child throwing a tantrum over a favourite toy, "this is _your_ bar and it was _your_ decision to hire a new barmaid, so _you_ should bloody train her."

"Can't do, North," Tom continues to chuckle, already strolling out the Old Avery with a skip in his step, "got a new shipment of rum and such coming in, someone's got to do a tally and make sure we're getting what we're owed."

"You can barely do simple addition and subtraction!"

"Have fun ladies," he calls over his shoulder, ignoring my obvious displeasure with a pleased smile, quickly disappearing from view.

 _I can't believe it,_ I thought but after a brief moment of reconsideration, I realised I could. While Tom was a man that was all about putting 110% into his job at the tavern, including stocktaking, training new recruits, keeping the tavern as immaculate as possible which in itself was a spectacular feat considering the people who ventured into the humble establishment. That being said, Tom was also the type of person who liked to sit back and relax, allowing others to do the jobs he was more reluctant to perform and as he _was_ getting on in his years, most us were happy to help.

Plus, seeing me make a fool out of myself would be highly amusing to the ageing fool.

With a sigh, I pull back my auburn locks into a low ponytail, tucking strands behind my ears in a effort to keep the fly-away wisps from my mouth and turn to face my new companion. Anne Bonny stares down at me innocently, green eyes sparkling with both excitement and trepidation as she fiddles with the a loose thread on her puffy, cream-coloured sleeves. At least she looked ready to listen to and take into account the advice I was to offer her - it would make my job a lot easier.

"So… ready to start?" I ask, trying to sound more chipper and friendly than I felt. Although I held nothing against her, I was naturally wary of people I did not know and quite often shy, although this entire experience had pushed my right out of my comfort zone into the deep end. Although I had adapted, meeting new people was still a little disconcerting, particularly when they disrupted the norm established.

"You don't have to teach me, I'm sure I'll be able to pick up what I need to know if I'm thrust right into it," Anne tells me as I duck behind the bar, gathering two trays and a handful of old wags Tom generally kept in order to use around the Tavern.

"Of course I do, Tom asked it of me," I reply, handing her a tray, "and you'd be crushed if I sent you out now."

"I know how to handle myself," she says rather indignantly.

"I'm sure you do… but drunk pirates aren't exactly the same as drunk men, you know?"

"But you're uncomfortable," she continues to protest.

"Look," I say, brushing my hair out of my eyes with an irritated huff before placing both hands on my narrowed waist, my green-blue eyes looking up into hers, "it's not you, it's me. I just take a while to warm up to people - I honestly have nothing against you."

"Oh," she says with a small smile.

"And considering the fact that Tom will probably refuse to change his mind about your employment, I'm not heartless enough to toss you to the wolves without giving you a few helpful tips. The men here are like wild animals and that's being generous. Besides," I take a deep breath and offer my own small smile, tucking my tray under my right arm, handing Anne a spare rag, "It'll be nice to get some help around here. Hopefully we'll work well together."

"I hope so as well," Anne notes.

"Good. Now that that's out of the way, please follow me and I'll explain how Tom runs this little place." Turning on my heel, I head for a recently evacuated table, littered with empty and discarded mugs and plates with food which was slowly rotting under the glare of the hot Caribbean sun, Anne at my side.

She stops me however, before I can put down my tray and begin to clean, eyes wide and doe-eyed as she catches my attention. "Miss North, one last thing?" she asks in her lilting Irish accent.

"Sure. And it's Tessa, Anne, not Miss North. We look to be about the same age and anyways, if we're going to be working together from now on, the least I can do is allow you the curtsey of calling me by my name - my _first_ name."

"Oh. Tessa? Okay. If you insist... umm, I was just wondering if we could - i mean, only if you want…" her eyes dart about nervously before she closes them, taking a deep breath in and then out. Opening her eyes, she grabs me by the shoulders and in one quick breath says, "I was wondering if we could be more than just colleges you know like friends?"

Blinking, I open and close my mouth like a fish, still processing what she had blurted out.

Taking it as a rejection, Anne releases her grip on my upper arms and shakes her head, a rather sad smile painted on her face. "I totally understand, don't worry about it… I mean it is kind of ludicrous…"

"Sure," I say simply, cutting her off as I turn my back to her and started cleaning up the table.

"Huh?"

"I said 'sure,' we can be friends," I explain, stacking the dirty dishes on my tray, followed immediately by the numbers mug littering the table's surface. "I know how hard it must be, not knowing anybody here… it's nice to have friends, someone you can trust."

"Really?" she asks excitedly, eyes shining with happiness.

I nod and Anne - startling me, which in turn causes my tray to flip out of my hands and all of the cutlery to fall to the floor in one massive, broken heap - grabs my hands and grins, "I'm so glad."

"Ummm, Anne?"

"Yes," she chirps.

I point at the mess.

Her expression falls.

"I'll clean that right up."

0-0-0-0-0-0

He was stuck.

Turning the old parchment in his hands, Edward carefully examines the inked lines and symbols for what had to be the millionth time - in all honesty, he didn't even need the piece of parchment, having learnt the diagram off by heart to the point where he could even replicate it. Although, despite his crystal clear memory, he was no closer to working out what the scrap detailed than he had been several years ago. He knew that it concerned the Observatory; exactly what it said _about_ the Observatory was unclear...

Hence the fact that he was stuck.

 _God damnit,_ he thinks to himself, taking a sip of his drink only to find that there was nothing of substance in the pewter cup.

 _Perfect, just perfect._

"Another?" a pretty red-head, carefully balancing a flagon and a couple of plates of food atop a square tray, asks. At his nod, she reaches for the cup and places it atop the tray, a welcoming smile curling her ruby lips.

"A rum flip this time," he responds, watching her rather graceful movements. She was attractive to say the least; fair-skinned, heart-shaped face with an almost button nose, ruby locks that fell about her face with a small bunch of flowers blooming from her curls and a curvaceous body, several necklaces emphasising her cleavage and the openness of her blouse.

Yes, she was a beauty but...

But she wasn't _her._

"And where'd I find fresh eggs in this wretched town?" she asks in a lilting Irish accent, biting her full bottom lip in frustration. Turning on her heel, she strides away with a slight shake of her hips, watching him over her shoulder. "There's little else but piss and insects," she continues with a roll of her eyes, sashaying towards Rackham, who - although incredibly drunk by this point in the day - looks at her hungrily with his chocolate eyes, a pleased smirk curling his lips, "and that is putting it nicely."

 _She acts almost exactly like..._ With an amused huff and a shake of his head, Edward returns his attention to the piece of parchment clasped in his hand, pushing away the thoughts of her that threatened to overthrow his concentration. "Aye," he answers the lady, stroking his chin, "we're working on that."

"Well, well, well," he heard Rackham say, voice slurred and heavy with drink, "dear lady, _what_ do they call _you?_ "

 _Oh this I have to see,_ Edward thought, peaking over his diagram to watch what would most likely be a rejection unfold. He was not alone in this - many of the patrons lounging about the tavern glanced over at the pair, many of whom stared at the red-head with utter adoration and longing. Edward could see some of the men swapping coins under the table and shaking hands, placing bets on the outcome of what could be a wonderful spectacle.

The lovely woman turns to Jack slowly, rolling her lovely green eyes. Cocking her head to one side, she purses her rosy lips and grabs the empty cup by the drunken pirate. "Anne, when they're sober," she says in her accented voice, holding the flagon by the tips of her slender fingers.

"A jilt when they're sauced," she continues, slamming the cup onto the tray and shooting the drunken man a glare that could freeze any man in his tracks, "but _never_ lady."

However, like the idiot Rackham truly was, he was not deterred by the lovely ladies sharp tongue and look of disgust tainting her otherwise heavenly feature. Instead of backing away, he leans forward - more like falls - and attempts a roguish grin. "Well, goodly Anne," he slurs, reaching for her waist but as Anne had already escaped out of reach, Rackham instead finds himself falling almost face first out of his chair. A chorus of laughter echoes throughout the bar, Edward himself smiling from his perch as his friend rolls on the dusty floorboard, groaning.

"A rum flip was it?" Anne enquires as she passes Edward by, a friendly smile once again gracing her fine features.

"Don't worry about it, Anne," an all too familiar voice answers before Edward could have the chance. With a soft thump, a fresh flagon of alcohol sat at his side, the froth on top a pearly, delectable white that made him smile - but the smile slipped as he glanced to his right, into a face that made his heart painfully race and butterflies to flutter excitedly in the pit of his stomach.

Ignoring him, Tessa offers Anne a smile that put the sun to shame - a smile that lit up his world... and made him feel as if his heart was being strangled. "I've got it," she continues, balancing a tray laden with drinks in one hand and several flagons in her other.

"Thanks Tessa," Anne says gratefully as she hurries away.

"Tess," Edward begins, his fist clenching around the parchment, wrinkling the already old and damaged page.

"Rackham, you okay?" she calls out to the drunk, brushing past Edward with her luminescent eyes obstinately trained on the stairs she carefully made her way down.

"I'm just fiiiiine," he calls back, using his chair to support his alcohol-laiden body as he struggled to his feet, "absolutely perfect. I'll take another round."

"Tess," Edward tries again, stashing the document into his pockets and getting to his feet, his eyes following her attractive figure

"You'll get another round when pigs start to fly," Tessa responds to Rackham with a wry smile, disregarding Edward's call as she places a series of drinks on a nearby counter to the delight of its occupants before moving off to another.

"Tessa."

"Here you go, two rum flips and something called a syllabub?" she continues, twitching a little at the urgency and irritation in Edwards voice but she keeps her smile, watching the three men sitting at the table laugh at her terrible pronunciation.

"Enjoy," she chirps, spinning on her heel and attempting to flee from the handsome pirate, only for his strong grip to close around her forearm and hold her in place. If she'd been carrying drinks, they would have surely ended up on the floor as Edward pulled her closer, forcing Tessa to brace her hands on his chest as she trips over her own feet - still she does not look him the eye, afraid that if she did she would do something she'd regret.

"Tess," Edward starts off slowly and quietly, dipping his head low so he can easily catch her gaze but her eyes stubbornly refuse to meet his, focusing instead on the fine yet slightly tarnished silver buckle adorning his holster.

"I have to get back to work," she tells him quietly, trying to pull away but his grip only tightens and her heartbeat quickens.

"No you don't."

"And how would you know that?" she snaps back, pushing at his chest and still refusing to meet his intense, spine-tingling gaze, "Anne is still quite new and we're quite busy, considering it's the middle of the day. I have to wipe down tables, place orders, deliver rum-"

"Tessa, for fucks sake, will just _look at me_ ," Edward growls.

She pauses.

"And why should I?" she asks softly.

"You've been avoiding me," Edward says and the words leave a bitter taste in his mouth, his heart like a solid weight in his chest, sinking to the pit of his clenching, tight stomach. The confusion, the grief, the anger; all the emotions he'd been trying to keep at bay barrel into him - it felt as if a physical blow had knocked him off his feet - and still she would not meet his gaze.

It was painful.

He'd forgotten how destructive love could be. The truth was that although he did still care for his wife, that he did still have intentions of going back for her if only to repay her for the hard life he had given her through their marriage, Tessa was all he could think about.

Tessa with her fiery, golden-red hair and her luminescent green-blue eyes that reminded him so strongly of the sea. Tessa, whose skin still felt soft to the touch, despite days of hard work at the Old Avery and harsh sun aboard the Jackdaw. Tessa, whose rosy lips and stunning smiles made his pulse race and his thoughts disappear. Tessa, whose personality outshone the brightest star in the sky, whose soft spoken words and kind, friendly demeanour charmed anyone and everyone she met. Tessa, who made him feel content and anguished and passionate and annoyed and happy and intoxicated and loved - so much love - all at once.

Theresa North.

His Tessa... his Tess.

And she wouldn't even look him in the eye.

"I haven't been avoiding you," she whispers, her slender shoulders hunching as her body tenses, "now please, let me-"

"That's bullshit and you know it," he hisses.

"Edward-"

"Why... just tell me why."

With an almost defeated sigh, Tessa finally raises her head and meets his gaze. To catch a glimpse of those eyes... all the tension in his body seems to fade away; his heart, although steadily increasing in momentum, feels lighter and his stomach no longer makes him feel as if he's about to be sick. Instead, he feels a kind of warmth fill his body and the all-to-familiar urge to sweep Tessa into his arms, to kiss her full, red lips and steal her away from the lustful eyes of many of the Tavern patrons - many of whom he wanted to punch the living daylights out of just for looking her way. She really was beautiful, far more beautiful than the new barmaid Anna? Angie? Anne? - that last one sounded about right - but what did it matter, when she stood before him?

He was so caught up, he didn't catch her murmured words at first. It took a while for them to sink in but once they did, it felt like a punch to the gut.

"Because _you_ were avoiding _me_."

Coming to his senses, Edward loosens his grip upon her forearms but does not look away, desperately committing each detail of her exquisite face to memory - not that he hadn't already done that in the past - as he struggles to find the right words to reply. Honestly, when was the last time a girl had left him so tongue-tied? He had no doubt that Thatch, Hornigold and Vane would fracture a rip or rupture their spleen if they saw how flustered he was before this doe-eyed, petite woman. "I haven't been avoiding you," he answers slowly, shaking his head to clear it from the barrage of questions floating through his brain; _why does she think that? Did I do something to make her think that? Obviously I did but I don't know what..._

With a self-depreciating laugh, she shakes her head and looks away, an almost regretful and definitely saddened look upon her face, turning down the corners of her luscious lips. "Sure I've seen you around and all..." she begins, the slender fingers of her right hand reaching for the silver locket looped around her throat, playing gently with the chain as she spoke, "but since arriving in Nassau after what happened in Kingston... you've barely spoken _two_ words to me, Edward."

"That's not-" he starts but she cuts him off with a withering glare.

"Do you know how I found out your father had passed?" she demands, shaking her head in utter disbelief, "from _Vane_ of all people... Thatch, maybe even Hornigold I could handle, but _Vane_?! I didn't even know that your parents were still alive, let alone living over in England. Each time I say hello, you either disappear or completely ignore me. You'd rather party hard with the rest of your drunken friends than share a drink with me... you don't care to mention when you leave to go hunting or when you have a new assassin contract - nothing... you just disappear. It reminds me very much of how this relationship _used_ to be before we actually decided that we were friends. So... are we no longer friends? Is that why you've been avoiding me? If that's the case than just tell me."

"I-" Edward begins, flustered and yet once again he is cut off, not by a glare but by a look that could honestly break his heart, if it wasn't already in pieces.

"Tell me how all that constitutes as 'not avoiding me,'" she cries, angrily brushing away tears that she didn't want to shed - she hated to cry but somehow, Edward always seemed to bring her to tears, whether they be happy or sad. "Because I sure as Hell don't understand how it can't be..."

"Tessa, I-"

"If you wanted to just forget about Kingston, then I get it," she continues, "but don't just cut me out."

"That wasn't my intention," Edward insists, trying to pull her into a hug but she fights against him and he is forced to let go.

"Look... I have to work," Tessa says, straightening the front of her simple dress, tightening her apron. She bends over and retrieves her serving tray from the scratched floorboards, once again avoiding his gaze, "if you would excuse me..."

"Tess," he tries again, reaching for her once more but she dances out of reach, hugging the tray to her chest.

 _When did things get so fucked up between us?_ Edward found himself wondering, as he watched the woman he loved, tremble and fight to keep herself together as she turned her back to him, ready to return to work.

 _If I had just... if we had just moved forward back in Kingston, would things be different?_ Would he be able to hold her small body against his, run his fingers through her soft, silky strands, comfort her - kiss her - take all of her worries and insecurities and stress off those small shoulders that seemed to be carrying the weight of the world.

Would she be his?

0-0-0-0-0-0

"It's a bag of shite! Do you hear me? It's a bag of bloody shite!"

Even as I turn to flee from Edward, every inch of my body still yearning for his touch, I can't help but pause mid-step and turn my head towards the deep, clearly outraged voice that could only belong to one Captain Charles Vane. Almost as if we were attached by an invisible piece of string, Edward and I simultaneously head towards the edge of the Tavern's balcony, overlooking the dirt paved streets of Nassau and lean over the rail, trying to gauge the situation. We watch Thatch turn his back on Hornigold and Vane, shaking his head in disbelief as he paces; Edward's eyes clearly focused on Thatch's back while mine are drawn to Vane.

"Oi Vane," I yell, startling Edward and the notoriously erratic Captain below, "watch your language will you?"

"Go get fucked, North," he hollers back, not-to-pleased with my smartass commentary.

"Watch what you say to her, Vane! Don't make me come down there and beat the shit out of you," Edward yells back, anger colouring his handsome face.

"I would but I'm on the clock," I answer Vane, shaking my head in partial amusement and irritation, "what are the lot of you arguing about now? You're causing quite a stir." In fact, many of the patrons within the Old Avery had turned their heads towards the commotion, murmuring under their breath with confusion evident on their dirty, scraggly faces. But Vane ignores me, turning back to Hornigold with a definite tone of urgency in his scratchy, deep voice, hands wildly gesturing. Nonetheless, both Edward and I can easily catch the conversation from our advantageous little perch.

"It's a ruse," Vane declares, grabbing Hornigold by the shoulder and shaking him slightly, "it's a ruse to keep us soft before they attack Nassau! You'll see. Mark me."

"It's no ruse, Vane," Thatch snarls, turning mid-stride to glare at his fellow pirate, "I heard it straight from the mouth of a greasy Bermudian captain."

"Stay here," Edward murmurs in my ear, his hand lightly brushing over my shoulder as he does. When I flinch from the brief contact, I notice Edward's face fall but it quickly regain composure and he moves away from the railing, hurrying down the stairs towards his friends.

After a moment of hesitation, I follow.

Undoing my apron as I go, I look over my shoulder and call out to Anne, catching her attention almost immediately. With a quizzical look in my direction, she hurries over with a tray lined with dirty cups and plates and takes my apron off my hands as I rush away. "Do you think you can handle things as they are?" I ask.

"Of course," she says.

"Thanks."

"There's a pardon," I hear Thatch sigh as I catch up to Edward's retreating form, "for any pirate that wants it."

"Ruse or no," I hear Hornigold say as I ignore the glare Edward shoots me as I reach his side, my shoulder brushing against his forearm. Hornigold's voice is cool, collected and calm as it always is - I can picture him trying to settle Vane's notorious temper and paranoia and oddly, the thought makes me smile. Even when it sounded like things were falling apart around them - around us - Hornigold always tried to keep it together; it was to be expected, since the man was one of the founders and de facto leaders of Nassau.

"I think it's plain the British may return to Nassau," he continues wryly, "with arms no doubt."

"Perfect," Vane mutters, throwing his arms into the air and immediately stalking away, heading for the Old Avery no doubt to drink away his frustrations, "fucking perfect."

"No need to have a meltdown over it," I say to Vane as he passes.

He gives me the finger as he goes by, snarling under his breath.

"We'll need a plan," Hornigold murmurs to Thatch.

The latter looks over as Edward and I approach, a grim look on his bearded, usually fearsome face. He claps Edward's shoulder as he strides over and offers me what appears to be a smile - but considering the fact that the man rarely did smile, it was more of a grimace than anything else - and squeezes my shoulder. "Walk with us," he says to the pair of us, shaking his head and already beginning to walk off up the near deserted street, "there's trouble brewing..."

"Why is it that that's always the case when the three of you are involved?" I ask wearily, near jogging to catch up with the three men who were more than a head taller than myself and had a lengthy, fast-paced stride.

"Funny," Edward says, grabbing my hand and pulling me to his side. He immediately lets my much smaller hand go once his pace is matched to mine, awkwardly avoiding my gaze as his lips curl into an amused smile, "I was just thinking the same thing."


	26. Chapter 23

**A/N: Firstly, I would like to apologise for the lateness of this chapter... secondly, I would like to blame the fact that for some stupid reason fan would not finishing loading my edited documents in doc manager... and then when I tried to upload it separately as a word doc, it would just keep reloading... *sighs and face palms***

 **That aside, I'd like to thank the people who read this story and look forward to it's updates :) And I'd also like to thank the people who review Down the Rabbit Hole, even if the message is simple 'please update soon.' You have no idea how happy it makes me, because it tells me that people are really looking forward to reading the next chapter and seeing how the story progresses. That being said, I'm sorry that it takes a while for me to upload the stories to the point where some of you seem to be almost begging in the review for more _ sorry for that...**

 **So, please enjoy the next chapter** **:) and feel free to review ;)**

* * *

 _… Are you listening?_

 _… Can you hear me?_

 _When I'm crying out for you_

 _... you say you love me_

 _... I love you more_

 _... you say you need me_

 _Know I need you more_

 **\- Miley Cyrus, 'Adore You' -**

* * *

 **Chapter 23**

My lungs burned, my legs ached and yet I managed to maintain my stride, stumbling after Edward, Thatch and Hornigold; Edward leading me by the hand. Although he had earlier released my hand from his grip, I'd latched back on, partially out of desperation - I knew that I could keep up with their lengthy strides if I held on - and partially because it was just a natural thing to do.

Because despite the wall that had somehow been built between us after Kingston, despite the awkwardness and the confusion and just everything, I still… still…

 _I still love him_ , I thought to myself, chewing at the inside of my cheek.

"In the absence of any clear ideas, I say we lay low," Hornigold says, startling me out of my thoughts. I tear my eyes away from Edward and focus on Hornigold, noting the furrowed brow and his hurried step - it only served to further remind me that something was seriously wrong and that Nassau was at risk. It was a terrifying prospect; especially now that Nassau had become my second home. After all, years had passed since that fateful day on that pristine beach and luscious jungle; and although part of me still hoped to return to my ICT influenced, modern world, I could no longer deny that a number of reasons had convinced me that it would be better to remain in 1718.

And one of those reasons looked over his shoulder at me and squeezed my hand, pulling me out of the path of a drunken man stumbling down the street.

"Careful," Edward murmurs.

My heart flutters.

"I'm fine," I say in a sharper tone of voice then I meant to, mentally kicking myself when Edward's mouth turns down at the corners, settling into a thin line.

"No piracies," Hornigold was saying, "and no violence. Do nothing to ruffle the king's feathers for now."

"Preserving the king's plumage is no concern of mine, Ben," Thatch argues.

"It will be when he sees his soldiers to scrub this land clean of our residue!" Hornigold snaps, glaring at the rather formidable Blackbeard, "look around!"

Our group comes to a brief pause, our eyes coming the dust-covered streets and the peeling walls of the small, wooden buildings lining the street. There was an almost grey hue to the colony, an atmosphere of poverty and illness and defeat that had invaded the once lively air. People lay at the side of the road, passed out drunk or crippled by sickness, nursing a steadily emptying bottle of rum or clutching at their aching bodies. Smouldering fires dyed in the streets and the stillness of the air seemed to be almost oppressive.

It was hard to ignore the massive rats that scuttled in and out of my view, no matter how much I wished I could.

"It will be when he sees his soldiers to scrub this land clean of our residue!" Hornigold snaps, glaring at the rather formidable Blackbeard, "look around!"

Our group comes to a brief pause, our eyes coming the dust-covered streets and the peeling walls of the small, wooden buildings lining the street. There was an almost grey hue to the colony, an atmosphere of poverty and illness and defeat that had invaded the once lively air. People lay at the side of the road, passed out drunk or crippled by sickness, nursing a steadily emptying bottle of rum or clutching at their aching bodies. Smouldering fires dyed in the streets and the stillness of the air seemed to be almost oppressive.

It was hard to ignore the massive rats that scuttled in and out of my view, no matter how much I wished I could.

A town that was once filled with laughter and debuarchy and an almost hopeful atmosphere seemed to have disappeared before our eyes - the town still stood and there was still laughter (albeit drunken, but was it any different before) and reckless disregard for all things ordered and ruled but it wasn't the Nassau I had come to know and, in some way, love.

It certainly wasn't the idyllic pirate colony Edward had once regaled Adéwalé and I with all those years ago.

"Is this cesspool worth dying for?" Hornigold persists, an edge of sadness to his brisk tone as he turns to the three of us.

"Aye!" Thatch argues, brushing past Hornigold with a glare that could freeze hell over, prompting us to follow past the long-deserted gallows, "it's our Republic! Our idea! A free land for free men, remember? So maybe it's filthy to look at, but ain't it still an idea worth fighting for?"

 _Thatch_ , I think to myself, wincing in sympathy at the somewhat desperate look upon Thatch's face. It was clear that Nassau and the concept, the idea, the living proof of their once proud Pirate Republic meant a great deal to him - he probably wasn't the only one. Both Hornigold and Edward had called this place home for several years and I myself had adapted well to the usually vibrant, loud and frivolous town. For many, this was a place where you could be anything you wanted to be - freedom from rules and from order and from authority; a chance to live in sin; a chance to live on the wild side; a breath of fresh air in a world dictated by the laws of the monarchy. For many, this was their home - where would they go, if the British returned to take control? What would they do if the Pirate Republic disappeared?

Certainly a part of their identity would be lost, certainly their homes, their livelihoods. Many were using piracy as a means for survival; take that away and what were they left with? Nothing.

Hornigold however, remains unconvinced.

With a sigh, he observes the wasted surroundings with a look of longing and disappointment. It was obvious that although Hornigold still clung to a small thread of hope that Nassau could be saved, he had lost a majority of his faith and who could blame him, strolling around the town and witnessing the rampant disease, disorder and decay?

"I can't be sure," he says, "for when I look on the fruits of our years of labour, all I see is sickness... idleness... idiocy."

"Well, not a sunbeam of difference between here and London then, eh?" Thatch jokes but it falls flat, just like his tone of voice.

"Thatch is right, man," Edward interjects, "taking a wide view, we're not doing so bad out here. There's sun, rum and leisure as far as the eye can see..."

"Not to mention pretty lasses, eh?" Thatch chuckles, eyeing Edward and I side-by-side, to which the pair of us immediately blush.

"Bugger off, Thatch," I mutter, withdrawing my hand from Edwards as my pulse quickens.

"Aye, Nassua may look fine from a distance," Hornigold interjects, ignoring the friendly banter, "but at its core there's a disease I cannot stomach."

"It's rotten," I agree.

All three of the pirates turn to look at me in surprise - I was sure that if not for my occasionally input and the light banter that frequently occurred between Edward, Thatch and I, they would forget I was even there; certainly Hornigold would. We never really formed a close friendship and despite all the years I'd been living in Nassau and exploring the Caribbean with Edward, we'd never really moved past mutual acquaintances. More than likely, the trio were probably surprised I was agreeing with Hornigold rather than Edward and Thatch, however as I had come to love Nassau and see it as my second home, I too was becoming more and more aware of the floundering conditions.

Unlike Hornigold, I hadn't given up but that didn't mean I didn't share his concerns.

"Just this week, I've had five of the Old Avery's regular patrons die," I inform the trio, frowning slightly as I recall the gossip that had been circulating the tavern, "two of them passed away on the sea, but three died here in Nassau from contracting a disease. The doctors we have are ill-equipped, if we have any doctors at all; most are just healers using whatever home remedies they can and the medicines we can provide are outdated and ineffective and even those are dwindling in supply."

"Sickness can be cured, Tess," Edward assures me, brushing his fingers against my cheek as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear; a familiar action which immediately soothes me. "All we need is the right medicine, and lots of it."

"But a corpse cannot be reanimated," Hornigold argues, clearly becoming frustrated with the course the conversation was taking.

He wasn't the only one.

"I can't believe the shite I'm hearing drop from your lips!" Thatch growls, poking his friend hard in the chest, "why not take the pardon now and be done with it!"

"Let's just stay calm-" I begin, wedging myself between the two.

"Peace! Both of you!" Edward yells over me, pulling them apart much more efficiently than I could - considering he had a lot more upper body strength then I did - before carefully pulling me aside, so if the two came to blows I would not be in the epicenter, "we can satisfy both aims if we work together."

"I think that's a sound plan, don't the two of you?" I ask, slightly intimidated when the older gentleman turn to me with frowns on both of their faces.

"Not trying to be offensive here, Lass, but I don't think you quite understand the situation," Thatch says, patting my head in such a way that can only be completely demeaning.

"Why'd you even bring her along, Kenway?" Hornigold asks rather exasperatedly, "she could barely keep up before."

"I think she's made some solid input in this discussion," Edward argues, throwing an arm over my shoulders and pulling me into his chest, clearly trying to protect me from their insults even though I wasn't at all offended.

They did have a point. I honestly hadn't been living in this environment long enough to understand the underlying complexities. Still... it was my home now and I believed I had a right to say what I thought in concern to its welfare. It made my chest warm and my cheeks flush at the thought that Edward agreed.

"Besides," he continues with a roguish smile, "I try to get rid of her but she's like a lost puppy… it's like trying to avoid the day - the sun will always rise tomorrow."

"Excuse you!" I cry out rather indignantly, slapping at Edward's chest to which he simply smiled down at me in amusement.

"That was soon painful," he teases, batting away my hands as Thatch laughs, watching the two of us struggle.

"Look... what do you suppose we do?" Hornigold sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he struggles to retain what little patience he has left.

"Find medicines to ease our burden's here," Edwards states, "but in a way that don't attract the British."

Contemplative, the men resume their stroll through Nassau, heading towards the bay where their ships were safely docked along with the massive Galleon we had once stolen from the Templar de Casse - something that felt like a distant memory now. Edward steps away from me, tearing me from my thoughts as he pushes back my much smaller and lighter body away from his. His eyes momentarily lock on mine and silently he offers me his hand, which I graciously accept, allowing him to tug me along as I struggle to match Thatch and Hornigolds' pace once more.

"I'd wager the nearest doctor - the nearest real doctor - is sitting pretty in Havana," Thatch brings up a few moments later, "not a place I mean to go."

"The Spanish Fleet that sunk two years back would have some medicine," Edward suggests, "all sealed up in glass vials."

"Would the medicine still be useful, being under the sea for such a time?" I ask.

Edward shrugs, "can't say for sure but we can try."

"You'd need a diving bell to reach those depths," Thatch points out.

"Aye," Edward readily agrees with a smile, "with some coin and a few supplies, a diving bell won't be hard to come by."

Satisfied, the three of us - Edward, Thatch and myself - turn to Hornigold with identical looks of expectation.

"This is a plan I can stand behind," Hornigold agrees after a pregnant pause, which immediately puts a smile on my face and a slightly more subdued smile on Edwards; even Thatch's mouth curls up slightly at the corners upon hearing agreement from the most stubborn man in the whole of Nassau. "Find the medicines without stirring up trouble... agreed Thatch?"

"Agreed," the older man answers. Looking over his shoulder, he flashes Edward a impish grin filled with delight at the prospect of adventure, "I'll meet you near the wrecks as soon as you're able, Kenway... I suppose I'll be seeing you too, Lassie?"

"Of course," I smile back sweetly, "wouldn't miss this... besides someone needs to keep the two of you in line."

"Ha! Now that's a sight I'd pay to see," Hornigold jokes, raising a hand in farewell as he disappears to attend to his own duties. "Remember Thatch," he calls out over his shoulder, "keep your cannon's corked!"

"Piss off, Ben!" Thatch yells back but there's a slight skip in his step, hinting that he wasn't quite as annoyed as he pretended to be and that he was keen to get started. With a slight wave of his hand and a tip of his hat in farewell, Thatch briskly strolls away, heading towards his moored ship, safely anchored in Nassau's harbour.

"You think he'll keep his word?" I ask Edward, watching our friend go.

"Thatch'll keep his word for as long as he can," Edward tells me, turning his head to me with a carefree smile, "just as long as he ain't provoked into starting something."

"That's like saying a fire won't burn if you add fuel and a flame," I chuckle, my joke causing Edward's smile to widen and a chuckle of his own to slip past his lips. And for a moment, it feels just like old times - before Kingston, before that night in the hotel... before everything got so fucking confusing. A sense of calm seemed to fall upon me at that moment and for the first time in a while, I felt that the smile gracing my lips was real and not forced in any way.

I missed this, I truly did.

But I only had myself to blame. Of course, Edward had played his part too but...

As the laughter dies, Edward catches my gaze once more and I just can't seem to tear my eyes away. Those grey-blue eyes watching me with such a familiar intensity that my heart flutters with desire and nervous sweat trails down the back of my neck, sticking the strands of my ponytail against my skin - although arguably, the warmth of the sun could also be the cause. As he drifted closer I couldn't help my eyes fluttering to a close and when I felt his arms snake around my waist, pulling my body flush against his, I could not help but sigh when his lips finally pressed against mine, his tongue coaxing my mouth open. Simultaneously, we seemed to moan and lean into the kiss, desperately seeking each other. My arms snake around his neck, my fingers curling into the strands of his blonde hair, tugging him closer and closer and until it was practically impossible for him to be any nearer to me and yet I pull him closer still.

What had I been thinking, back at the tavern? No matter how much awkwardness had come between us, no matter how much we fought, I wanted this. I wanted Edward. I needed him… and I could only hope that he felt the same. Enough so, that we could put aside our differences and move forward.

"Tess..." Edward sighs into my mouth, his hands squeezing my waist before gently pushing me away.

"Edward?" my voice comes out croakier than usual, breathless but the confusion is evident.

And before I know it, the wall has come back up and Edward turns away, the smile gone from his handsome face and his losing their breathless intensity and spark. A kind of cold seeps into our conversation, reminiscent of the detachment that had been present in our original relationship, in those first few confusing months when everything was up in the air and I didn't honestly know who to trust, what I was doing, where I was... back when I didn't believe that I could be here in the 18th century.

"You should let Tom know I'll be stealing you away again," he tells me, refusing to look at me.

"Oh," I say, momentarily stunned by the sudden shift from passion to coldness but with a quick shake of my head, I manage a small smile and an agreeable nod, "yeah, sure... I can do that."

"Good," Edward says, already heading off in search for the diving bell we required for the deep sea excavation of the Spanish treasure fleet.

"But umm... if you need help, Tom can-" I start to say but Edward immediately cuts me off.

"No... no, don't bother. I don't need your help, I can do it myself," he pauses, running a hand through his blonde locks - something I knew he only did when he was particularly frustrated, "just go back to your job, Tessa. I'll come find you later."

"Are you-" but before I can even finish, Edward's already heading towards a busier part of town where the markets would be, fleeing the scene. For a moment, I stand there, alone and unsure what to do. Finally, I come to my senses and set off for the Old Avery, all the while trying to swallow the lingering bitterness on my tongue as I come to realise that he hadn't called me by my nickname - something I hadn't been able to stop him from doing since day one.

 _It hurts,_ I think, clutching at my chest and blinking back those accursed tears that seemed to fall so easily these days, _why does it hurt so much?_

0-0-0-0-0-0

 _"What will we do with a drunken sailor,_

 _What will we do with a drunken sailor,_

 _What will we do with a drunk sailor,_

 _Early in the morning?_

 _Weigh-hay and up she rises_

 _weigh-hay and up she rises_

 _weigh-hay and up she rises"_

"Early in the morning..." I sing along with the crew of the Jackdaw, the familiar melody and are rather harmonious voices drifting on the wind as the Jackdaw sails through the Caribbean. It had been a long time since I had last dared to sing; Shaun had once told me that it was perhaps the only thing elegant about me but I had always been too say to sing in front of others. But, the sky is a perfect blue with not a cloud in sight and the sun is shining brightly, the strong rays catching on the spray of the sea, sparkling as it drifts along the salty breeze and it seems right to sing along.

It's calming, settling the nerves that are fluttering about in the pit of my stomach.

The crew scrambles about, performing their various duties as Adéwalé calls out commands from the deck, his dark eyes carefully observing the movements of the crew and Edward watches the horizon from his place at the helm; regal and in control, every bit the ambitious, calm and collected Captain the crew worshipped and I admired, from a distance of course.

 _You've been avoiding me._

Edwards words floated through my mind as I leaned against the Jackdaw, feeling the wind whip through my hair and the sea fall against my face in tiny, iridescent droplets tossed into the breeze by the fast-paced ship as it cut through the endless ocean. I couldn't deny that it was true - I had been avoiding him for quite some time, throwing myself into work immediately after returning from Kingston and although Edward had also avoided unnecessary contact with me, I couldn't help but feel that the awkward tension between was more my fault than his. As I closed my eyes, content to listen to the sailors various renditions of the sea shanties Edward and I had procured during some of our adventures, I ran through our conversation back at the Old Avery, cringing as I recalled my various accusations and my perhaps over the top attitude; I honestly had sounded like a jilted girlfriend, and Edward and I certainly weren't in that type of relationship...

Even if a part of me, for a moment there, desperately wished it to be true

 _Who am I kidding?_ I think, massaging my temple _, I do wish it were true. I wish we were anything but what we are now..._

Still, the fact remained: how could I be so hypocritical?

My brother would often tell me that I had a temper that would just loosen my tongue and allow my emotions to run high and free - maybe that was the reason for my outburst. Although back then, I used to tell him that he was wrong and of course, our usual bickering would begin and our parents - later Desmond or Rebecca, even William but only when our fights would get so loud and so pointless that no one could really concentrate - would have to settle the two of us. Some part of me longed to hear him say that, the other cringed at the thought of his know-it-all 'I told you so' moment.

The fact was that the reason I could be so cold and perhaps even cruel to Edward was because I just didn't know how to act around him anymore - not after Kingston.

Not after everything he obviously so wanted to forget.

The thought made anger boil in the pit of my stomach - along with regret and loneliness and longing...

"Why can't I just make up my goddamn mind?" I whisper to myself, leaning over the rail and watching the waves toss and turn, lashing against the hull of the brig. With a sigh, I touch my lips and recall our earlier kiss on the Nassau beach; the passion behind it, the desire in Edward's eyes mirroring my own, the way he pulled me flush against his body and opened my mouth to tongue. There had to be some part of him that still wanted me like he had in Kingston - just as there a huge part of me that still wanted him. And despite everything... despite everything that had to mean something right? Feelings like the ones we had to share didn't just disappear overnight.

Trust me, I would know.

 _"Now we are ready to sail for the horn,_

 _Weigh hey, roll and go!_

 _Our boots and our clothes, boys, are all in the pawn,_

 _To be rollicking randy dandy-O!"_

 _Heave a pawl, O heave away!_

 _Weigh hey, roll and go!_

 _The anchor's on board and the cable's all stored,_

 _To be rollicking randy dandy-O!"_

"Not going to join in?"

Pushing myself away from the side of the ship, I turn with a wry smile to face Adéwalé grinning facade, the smile slipping as I take in his dark eyes; kind yet filled with a kind of apprehension that I hadn't seen since that first day as a crew in 1715. There was concern there too but the stiffness in his posture and the unease in his face suggested that there were other things playing on his mind concerning me. Although, I force my lips back into a smile and throw my arms behind my head, observing the chanting crew with a fond look.

"They don't need me; they sound fine on their own."

"Perhaps a little song will drag you out of those dark thoughts," the quartermaster notes, folding his arms over his chest, the muscles rippling underneath his dark skin. With my back pressed against the side of the ship and the tense stature of Adéwalé's body, I feel my own body tighten and my heart to quicken in pace as the feeling of being cornered sets in.

"Aren't I always lost in my thoughts, Adé?" I tease with an easy-going smile, circling around the observant quartermaster with a swift side-step so it is his back against the wall, not mine. The feeling of being a caught and caged like a wild animal gradually begins to fade but as his eyes continue to follow me, I can't shake the nervousness that stiffens my body.

"That is true," the man answers in his usual grave tone of voice, his eyes serious, "but normally it is with a smile."

The smile on my lips falls once again and I drop my arms to my sides, chewing at the inside of my cheek, the voices of the Jackdaw's crew floating on the wind to my ears:

" _Come breast the bars, bullies, heave her away,_

 _Weigh hey, roll and go!_

 _Soon we'll be rolling her down through the Bay,_

 _To be rollicking randy dandy-O!_

 _Heave a pawl, O heave away!_

 _Weigh hey, roll and go!"_

"The anchor's on board and the cable's all stored," I sing softly with the rest of the crew, my voice lost among their hearty shouts and cheerful demeanor. My gaze watches the never-ending blue horizon as the song comes to an end with a final: "to be rollicking randy Dandy-O…"

Silence falls between Adéwalé and myself, the two of us taking a moment to ourselves to collect our thoughts and work out how to approach the conversation we both knew was coming.

"A penny for your thoughts," I eventually enquire, leaning once again on the ships side, catching the sea spray - though the very attempt was fruitless - enjoying the breeze that chills my cheeks and the tip of my nose.

"What happened between you and Edward?" Adéwalé asks softly, careful not to catch his Captain's attention - it seemed like Edward always knew when he was being discussed and it was clear, from the low tone of Adéwalé's voice that he was reluctant to be heard.

"I don't-" I begin, a little startled by the question but if I was being honest with myself, some part of me had expected it; Adé was exceptional perceptive and was probably the only other person on this ship who spent as much time with Edward as I did, maybe even more considering the number of expeditions they embarked on without me.

"Tessa, you and I both know something's wrong with the captain," Adé states. "You and I both know that this strangeness only began after Kingston and considering how the two of you will barely speak two words to each other, and that you've been avoiding the Jackdaw for the past few months, I can only assume that something has between the two of you. Care to explain why the pair of you are acting completely different than usual?"

"Something did happen," I admit, carefully choosing my words, "but Adé... it's something that can't just be solved by allowing you to be privy to our thoughts. It's between Edward and myself-"

"Then why not talk it out between yourselves?" the quartermaster suggests, once more cutting me off.

"Because Adé, it's not that easy," I explain patiently, the words leaving a bitter taste on the tip of my tongue. It certainly wasn't going to be as easy as Edward and I sitting down over a cup of tea or a mug of rum, discussing our issues; not when it was difficult to look each other in the eye… not when our relationship was so strained that we found it honestly difficult to look at the other, let alone start a conversation.

A pause.

"The two of you... I don't know," Adé murmurs, shaking his head with a small amused smirk curling his lips, "there's just something about the two of you that seems right."

Laughing at my shocked expression, he throws an arm around my shoulder and gives me a one-armed squeeze, before lifting his hand and rubbing the top of my head - hard.

"Ow," I complain but with a small giggle, pushing away his hand and smoothing the top of my hair. Quietly, I appraise the dark-skinned man before me - a man I had to come to see as my friend over the years, a man I could trust to keep everything running smoothly, a man I trusted; although he did make me a little nervous at times, with his large presence and knowing, dark eyes. Despite that, I trusted him and looked up to him and knew that although he had the Jackdaw's best interests at heart first and foremost, he also looked out for me and for Edward and I knew he wanted us to set things right.

And I knew that we had to.

The question was how... but that wasn't something Adé needed to concern himself with.

"You alright there, fair Lady?" he asks and I shake my head, realizing I had been lost in thought for too long.

"It's nothing," I murmur, "I just never pegged you for a romantic.

"All I know," he says with a chuckle, patting my shoulder again as he pushes away from the railing, "is that the Captain is a better man with you around... you'll manage to find some way to rectify this situation, I'd put all my money on that bet."

"I wouldn't do so just yet."

Another hearty laugh but there's something else to it - nerves? But really, what did he have to be nervous about? It wasn't as if I made him nervous; yeah I had good aim, much better since I had been practicing little by little when I had the spare time, determined to rely on my own abilities and be my own savior, rather than constantly rely on Edward and be his constant damsel in distress - yuck - but I doubted that I could take Adé by surprise. Ruefully scratching at the back of his head, Adéwalé takes a quick step away from me, muttering furiously under his breath. "Listen Tessa, I gotta get back on the job," he murmurs, offering an apologetic smile, "wouldn't want the men to slack off."

"I understand," I answer, raising my hand in farewell.

"You should think about what I said."

"Trust me," I assure with a laugh, running a hand through my long curls, somewhat ashamed as I think back on the past few months before my slender fingers come to rest on the locket glittering under the pleasant sun, "I will be... thank you."

"No need to thank me," he answers, patting the crown of my head once more before hastening away, yelling orders out to the crew. Bemused by his quick getaway and agitated demeanor, I can't help the small giggle that falls from my lips as the crew starts up yet another pleasant shanty, their voices once more floating along the wind in almost perfect harmony - who knew pirates could be good singers?

 _"Come all you young sailor men, listen to me,_

 _I'll sing you a song of the fish in the sea;_

 _And it's..._

 _Windy weather boys, stormy weather, boys,_

 _When the wind blows, we're all together, boys;_

 _Blow ye winds westerly, blow ye winds, blow,_

"Jolly sou'wester, boys, steady she goes," I sing along, looking towards the helm where Edward stood, navigating his beloved ship with what was almost a carefree smile and a determined look to his handsome face that I hadn't seen in a long while. I knew that I had to solve this problem with Edward and to do so, I would have to tackle the issue head on - a difficult action for me to take, considering the fact that I rather liked to avoid conflict and messy conversations but I couldn't hold out forever.

I wouldn't be able to stand it.

For a brief moment, I catch Edward's eye as the handsome man casually spares me a glance from his place at the head of the ship. He offers me a small smile and I find myself returning it, only to have him shake his head and turn away, setting his mouth in a hard line, his gaze once more on the horizon.

 _I can wait_ , I think to myself, closing my eyes against the sun and the landscape of the Caribbean which, after three years, still managed to take my breath away.

 _Just a little bit longer…_

0-0-0-0-0-0

 _So… she could sing._

The observation was meaningless, insignificant… to anyone but Edward.

He could hardly be surprised, considering the number of secrets he had yet to divulge to Tess himself that she too would have a few of her own. Yes, he knew of her Assassin past and yes, he knew somewhat about her family but there was so much more that still remained a pleasant mystery to Edward when concerning Tessa. And when he had yet to tell her of _his_ most precious, darkest secrets and when they were barely on speaking terms, he couldn't her to share any of her own. Nor could expect not to be occasionally surprised by the still mysterious woman he had happened to fall head-over-heels in love with.

He could not help but watch from his place at the helm, studying the way the wispy strands of her red-gold hair fluttered with the wind, the way the sea-spray sparkled on her ivory skin like diamonds when catching the suns light just the right way or the way her rosy lips curled into a pleasant smile as she sang along with the rest of the Jackdaw's crew. She leaned her supple, curvy body against the worn wood of the deck, her slender fingers playing with the locket he had given her in Kingston as a birthday gift and a memento of their time together, to replace the pearl she had lost – she played with the locket almost constantly since receiving it; it was as if to Edward's observant gaze, that the locket gave her courage and comfort when she could not find it elsewhere and something about that warmed his heart and convinced him that somehow…

He watches as Adéwalé comes up behind her, ruffling her soft locks with his large hands and offering her a pleasant smile and an obviously cheerful, pleasant conversation – something Edward deduces from the way she beamed up at the quartermaster and laughed. As she did, Edward felt his heart sink and his stomach twist, jealously rearing its ugly head. It seemed almost ridiculous that he'd be jealous of what was more than likely a friendly conversation between two friends. It was even more ridiculous that the conversation just out of an ear-shot was causing him so much distraction, particularly when Edward required every ounce of concentration in trying to avoid unnecessary skirmishes with the dozen navy vessels from Spain and England patrolling the Caribbean seas - heeding caution, as Hornigold had emphasized, was certainly proving to be an unexpected challenge.

They had been friends for several years now; life on the seas and dependency on your crew, mean that working together is a top priority. For both Tessa and himself, Adéwalé had become a reliable source, trustworthy... it was to be expected that friendship would form out of it, particularly since the three of them had met under the most unusual of circumstances - nothing brings you closer together than a near-death experience and a couple of rusting irons. And it was because they were friends, that Edward trusted Adé with a variety of affairs; whether it be the maintenance of the Jackdaw, the welfare of the crew or even taking the time to share a pint, Adé was an easy man to depend upon. He was quiet, focused and incredibly observant, teasing Edward of his feelings for Tess long before he had even admitted it to himself; and that was why Edward found his jealously over their minute conversation so ridiculous. In the all the years that the three of them had known each other, not once – not _once –_ had Adé expressed interest in Tessa the same way he himself had. If anything, the man treated Tessa like a younger sister or an extremely close friend. So then why did it irritate him so much to see the two of them, their bodies turned towards the other, laughing at a joke he could not hear?

 _I'm being ridiculous,_ Edward thought to himself, gripping the helm tighter than necessary but even as he told himself that, he could not help sparing another glance at the pair, his normally handsome face twisting into what could only be described as a cold, hard expression.

If looks could kill.

As the quartermaster wanders off, bidding the pretty red-haired a hasty farewell, his grey-blue eyes catch her emerald-blue ones – the eyes that remind him so much of the ocean – and he watches as she offers him a tiny, almost hopeful smile in reply to his own. For a moment, he considers calling her over or asking another to take the wheel, the desire to have her in his arms, her beautiful face pressed into his chest almost overwhelming however, Edward sets his mouth into a hard line and shakes his head clear of those thoughts; the reality was that things could not return to the way they once were… but it could be repaired… and improved.

The only question was how.


	27. Chapter 24

**A/N: I really wanted to finish this chapter by christmas... but clearly, that did not happen. Then I aimed to finish it by new years... only to remember that I was going on a road trip with my family and my laptop was being left behind; not that it mattered, I was the only one throughout the entire trip who had no internet connection and I wasted my data during the first four days or so. Then I figured, February - I couldn't count on January because of my heavy work schedule BUT a trip to Japan had me put it aside AGAIN... I have never been so frustrated in my life! _**

 **BUT! I have managed to get it done and here it is! I hope you're all still looking forward to it :)**

 **Once again, a huge thank you to all of you who read this fanfic :3 It honestly makes me so proud and so happy to see so many people enjoying what I write :) It's been my dream since I was little to be a writer and to see so many people enjoying this gives me hope that if I were to write my own original** **story, that people would enjoy that too. Knowing that there are many of you who are eagerly awaiting (I hope) for the next chapter, makes writing this fanfic 100x more rewarding and enjoyable if I didn't have that. Thank you for your reviews and thank you for all of your patience :)**

 **I've rambled on enough.**

 **\- AshTree13 xoxo**

 **P.S the poem I have used as my inspiration is also at the end of the chapter, for any of you who want to read the whole poem without my little edits. It's a lovely poem, and has always been one of my favourites so please check of Henry Lawson's complete The Cross-Roads after finishing my chapter :) ENJOY my lovelies xx**

* * *

 _Once more I write a line to you,_

 _While darker shadows fall;_

 _Dear friends of mine who have been true,_

 _And steadfast through it all..._

 _The bitter things are written now,_

 _And we must let them go..._

 _The friendships that I have abused,_

 _The trust I did betray..._

 _The gifts I threw away..._

 _But you might deem them answered now,_

 _And answer from my heart..._

 _But I have done with barren strife,_

 _And dark imaginings..._

 _[I] will seek the better things._

 **\- Henry Lawson, 'The Cross-Roads' -**

* * *

 **Chapter 24:**

Surprises - there are both the good and the bad.

This was certainly one of the good.

With my arms outstretched, I carefully navigate the narrow plank of wood that stretches between Thatch's newest ship - a former slave frigate that had once belonged to the British, or so I had been told and had been armed to the teeth, the perfect pirate ship to strike fear into the hearts of sailors everywhere... the perfect pirate ship for the most frightening pirate on the seas - the Queen Anne's Revenge and the Jackdaw, incredibly conscious of the fact that just bellow my feet was the beautiful blue sea. Behind me, the Jackdaw's crew readied the diving bell for submersion, checking every nook and cranny for any fault because if the submersible was to go under with some sort of error, the results could be detrimental. Honestly, I shuddered to think what might occur if Edward went down with a faulty bell - he wouldn't last long if he didn't have an immediate escape route, even with the extra air barrels that we would provide. The crew had told me stories about sunken treasure fleets and the various attempts made to reclaim the buried treasure; few had been successful, primarily because beneath the surface of the ocean there were various dangers like eels hiding behind chests and scores of jellyfish floating with the current... though, the biggest danger were perhaps the sharks that had made the wreck their home. I can easily recall the tales my brother had told me, about the torpedoing of the USS Indianapolis and the sinking of the Nova Scotia, in which many of the survivors were killed by the fatal bites of Oceanic Whitetips and although I love sharks - after all, they are fascinating creatures - their bites could be fatal.

 _As far as surprises go,_ I think as I jump off the plank and onto the Queen Anne's deck, stretching my arms up behind my head, _a shark bite is certainly one of the more... distasteful ones._

But like I said, this surprise was a good one.

I can feel the smile curling the corners of my lips as my eyes fixate on a very familiar figure and, although I tried to maintain all propriety when I first spotted him in the distance, I abandon it all now to run across the somewhat crowded deck and throw my arms around Stede Bonnet's neck. With a loud _oomph_ , I feel Stede wrap his arms around my waist and hug me back just as fiercely, stumbling back a couple of steps from the force of our collision. And as Stede spun me around in a circle, barely able to keep his own excitement in check, I could not help but let out a twinkling laugh to express my own.

"I can't believe it's you, Miss North," Stede chuckles, holding me at arms length as his squinty hazel eyes study my face intently, "my goodness, the West Indies is a compact place!"

"It's so good to see you again, Mr. Bonnet," I say with a smile and another hug. "But... what's with the eyepatch."

"I was trying to be... I don't know? More piratey? Is that a even a thing... is that even a word? And it's Stede," he immediately corrects and I can't help but laugh at the familiarity of it.

"Well, first off," I say, raising a finger as I tick of my answers to his seemingly never ending questions, "no. It's not a word. Two, it's not a thing... not really... and third, if you wish to be Stede - although Bonnet just seems to roll off the tongue much better - then you shall have to call me Tessa. That way, we're even. Deal?"

"You drive a hard bargain... but I accept."

With a bemused smile and a quick shake of my head, I wrap my arms around Bonnet's pudgy body and give it another squeeze, somewhat surprised by my excitement. We hadn't known each other very long and our short acquaintance had ended with Edward and I being taken into custody and tossed aboard a save ship bound for Spain - ah, the memories. If I were to be honest, I hadn't thought I'd ever meet Stede again but now that I had, I was thrilled; I mean, he was such a kind, gentle soul... he was hard to dislike. And it honestly felt like, despite the time apart, that it had been only yesterday Stede and I were in a small tailor, trying on row after row of fabric and dresses and toasting to our future successes at one of the lesser known taverns in Havana.

It really was good to see such a friendly face.

"Edward!" Stede calls, sidestepping me with an enthusiastic sparkle in his eyes and a frantic wave of his hands, "Edward! It is you, right?"

"Who else could it be?" Edward calls back from the helm of the Jackdaw, leaning against the gleaming, scarred wood with a lazy smirk and a cheerful salute, "Allo, Bonnet. A surprise seeing you out here."

"A nice surprise," I interject, squeezing the gentlemans' upper arm, "but how did you end up here of all places? And with one of the most fearsome pirate captains to boot?"

"Didn't a certain someone say that the pirate life just wasn't for him? To free for a man of responsibility," Edward teases.

"It's a long story..." Stede admits, ruefully scratching at the back of his head and shrugging his somewhat narrow and slender shoulders, "the short of it is that I met Mister Thatch a month or so ago and he offered to take me under his yardarms, so to speak." He gives a somewhat troubled smile and Thatch, whose lounging on a nearby crate, tosses him a green bottle filled with, what I assume, is rum - and if not rum, some sort of alcoholic beverage because that's the only way Thatch would do it. After all, it's totally overrated to be sober; right? Fiddling with the bottle, Bonnet ruffles the back of his head and says somewhat sheepishly, "Says I must wash the hayseed from my hair before I am a true pirate."

"Gotta say, Lass," Thatch tells me, rolling his dark eyes, "this is either the biggest challenge of my career... or the worst bloody mistake I've ever made."

And though I know from the curl of his lips and the mischevious sparkle in his eye, that the man is joking, I can't help but roll my own blue-green eyes and sigh exaggeratedly, leaning over to land a reasonably soft punch on the fearsome pirates forearm. "Oh, don't be an ass. Stede's awesome - awkward? Yes. But totally awesome."

Flushing red right to the tips of his corn-blond hair, Stede shuffles his feet and, with his gaze trained to the floor, mumbles a soft thank you in my general direction.

Pacing the deck of the Jackdaw, Edward laughs - the rich sound filling the air, causing shivers to race up my spine - and shakes his head. "Well," he says with a fond smile and a tilt of his chin, "good luck to you then. Worse men have become better under Blackbeard's watch."

"From the mouth of one of the lot," Thatch smirks, raising another bottle - this one open - to Edward before downing almost half in a single gulp. Following his captain's example, Bonnet pulls out the cork of his own bottle and takes a sip... promptly gagging on the liquid moments later. Sympathetically, I pat the coughing 'pirate' on the back, certain that when Bonnet had attempted to drink the alcohol, he had assumed it would be like the prime beverages we'd indulged in when last in Havana... it didn't help that the man himself was a very light drinker, well... from what I could recall anyway.

"On a more important note," I say after a moment has passed, still rubbing Bonnet's back as the man hacked and coughed and spluttered and tried to make himself appear somewhat unaffected by the strength of the drink Thatch was chugging down like water, "did you have any luck finding medicine here in the wrecks?"

"Nothing 'round this spot," Thatch informs Edward and I, flipping the bottle over and giving it an impatient shake as if it would magically transform the last few drops into more liquor. Tossing aside the bottle, Thatch looks over at Edward. "But there's a few wrecks yonder that haven't been scoured by nothing but crabs and coral. My first mate mentioned that the San Ignacio wreck is just a couple of clicks in that direction... treasure and medicines, suppose to be small trove just lying beneath the sea. Was going to check it out myself but since your hear..."

"I'll have a look," Edward says with a decisive nod, already turning away to change the ships direction - Adéwalé was already barking out the orders for the Jackdaws imminent departure. "We'll reconvene with you in an hour, two tops... would you like to join me?"

It took me a moment to realise that he was addressing me, with that last question. It had been some time since we had actually held a decent conversation, one that was civil and didn't end with the now annoyingly familiar burn of tears behind my eyes... to even look at me and hold my gaze was, in my books, a huge accomplishment; and yet I had to go an stick my foot into my mouth.

Fucking things up seems to be a speciality of mine, lately.

"I think I'll sit this one out," I find myself saying, almost as if I weren't in control of the words that were coming out of my mouth, the words my lips were forming. "I can swim but I'm not particularly strong... and it's not like I can hold my breath as long as you can; with the limited number of air barrels we have it'll be difficult to find our target if we have to continually resurface for air. I think I'll just observe, maybe catch up with Bonnet since I haven't seen him since Havana and it'd be nice to catch up and... yeah."

 _Oh my god, kill me now!_

"Then I leave Tessa in your capable hands," Edward says to Thatch, turning away with a hand raised in farewell and no further acknowledgement to me. And, just as before, my heart ached hearing _Tessa_ come out of his rather handsome mouth instead of his affectionate nickname, the one I always told him off about; it was strange, not hearing it for so long.

Clearly, I had become accustomed to _Tess_.

 _What a stupid thing to do,_ I thought, bring my face in my hands as my cheeks burned red with embarrassment and irritation.

"Tessa?" Bonnet asks softly, startling me out of my thoughts with a gentle tap on my shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Did something happen?"

Blinking in mock confusion, I tilt my head and press a finger to my chin, "I don't think so...?"

"Between you and Edward," Bonnet clarifies.

With a small frown, I struggle not to let my mouth slip into a pout but as I fail miserably, I look down at the floor and shuffle my feet, scuffing the already scratched toe of my boots. I didn't know what made me more embarrassed: the fact that I couldn't lie for shit when I used to be able to lie to the most observant guy on the planet - my brother - or the fact that despite not having spent any time with Bonnet since 1717, he - and probably _everybody on the freaking planet -_ could tell that there was something not quite right between Edward and I. Even Thatch, who was happily drinking away in the corner, shot me a sympathetic look from behind Bonnet's back.

 _Now that's just depressing,_ I think to myself, _the biggest, baddest pirate known on the seven seas feels sorry for me._

"Maybe," I mumble, rubbing my forearm sheepishly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," I say quickly, startling the poor man almost out of his skin. With a soft giggle, I pat his shoulder and loop my arm through his. "I'm working on it," I assure Bonnet, tugging at his arm and he obliges, beginning to stroll about the deck with me, "and I've talked it out with someone... I just need some time to think about what I'm going to say... all I know is that I need to apologise."

"Apologise?" Bonnet asks, surprised.

I shake my head and he, respectfully, doesn't press me further. "Tell me about your adventures so far," I say after a couple of silent laps around the somewhat crowded deck.

"Hahahahaha, well there have been a few," Bonnet chuckles. He stops and looks out to the horizon; my gaze follows his, to where the Jackdaw in all it's glory sways on the open sea and we both smile, hoping that all of our effort wouldn't be for nought. After the pause, Bonnet continues in a soft voice: "I hope you and Edward work it out... you two seemed so close back in Havana."

I have to hold back my laughter at Bonnet's declaration.

From what I could recall, I had trusted Edward about as far as I could throw him and Edward had merely tolerated me, only promising to bring to Havana because he wasn't quite sure how else to deal with a stranded, crying woman. We were always butting heads, had argued near constantly to the point where Adéwalé threatened to throw the pair of us overboard or leave us on a deserted island until we worked out our differences. We kept so many secrets from the other - we still did - but... little by little, something changed between the two of us. I wonder when it started to change? When I started to see Edward as more than just a brash, vulgar pirate... more than just a friend. When did everything change? When did everything fall apart? It felt like Edward and were constantly moving at a faster pace than necessary, battling against the natural flow of reality, struggling to stay above water.

When would it be the right time to just give up?

"We'll work it out," I promise.

"Good. Now... let me tell you about how Mister Thatch absconded my ship."

With a bell-like laugh, I nodded and Bonnet, smiling as if everything was right in the world, began to tell his own tale.

0-0-0-0-0-0

It was cold beneath the surface and everything was tinted green.

Massive walls of rock, absconded by coral and sea life, and surrounded by the desecrating wreck on the _San Ignacio_ informed those who wandered into the wreck site that it was they who were responsible for the ships demise. Fish of all shapes and colours flittered in and out from crevices and gaps in the barnacle covered wreckage; a kind of beauty and a new kind of world very few got to see. In fact, a small part of Edward, as he pushed himself off the diving bell and swam closer to the _San Ignacio,_ wished that he was here at the wreck simply to explore; but that was not to be. He had a mission, one that he would stick to with few detours - after all, how could he turn a blind eye to the treasure just waiting to be discovered? - and very limited time.

But he could still take in the view while he searched.

He could see the rusting anchor of the ship, leaning on it's side half buried in the sand, framed by pink and blue, green and purple corals and guarded by swarm of glowing, translucent jellyfish. Beyond that was a section of the ships hull and, from where Edward floated, he could see what was unmistakably a chest that, from what he could tell, was untouched. Ducking beneath the jellyfish's trailing tentacles - which, if he touched, would certainly leave a nasty scratch - he unlatched the chest and took a peak inside, a pleased smile tugging at his lips as he unearthed a small amount of gold and a sparkling silver cross.

With the loot tucked safely away, Edward continues forward, flinching as his shoulder grazed one of the Jellyfish's arm. Pulling away quickly as the sharp pain began to spread up his arm, Edward takes a quick look at the unmistakable red line trailing down his bicep before his eyes looked away and scanned the never-ending gloom for the main section of the _San Ignacio_ wreckage which would ubdoubtly have the medicines Nassau so desperately required for its survival. If he failed... no! The possibility of failing couldn't cross his mind because then, then it would feel as if they had already lost the war. But, the reality was that Thatch had already failed. The death of Nassau was almost unimaginable and it made Edward almost sick to his stomach just thinking about it... however, if he couldn't find the medicine crate, that was exactly what would occur.

 _I can't let her down,_ Edward thought as he swam through the water before pulling himself up short and shaking his head fiercely, startling a nearby school of fish. _I meant I can't let_ them _down... them._

How was it that _she_ was always in his thoughts? Even when he had first fallen in love with Caroline, she had not constantly surrounded his thoughts. Tessa was in every waking thought, every dream, in every breath he took, every step he tried to take - she was everywhere and he couldn't escape her... nor did he want to. Oh, how he desired her and oh how he wanted her. He wanted to run his fingers through her fiery hair, he wanted to kiss her sinfully red, full lips and her perfect forehead. He wanted to hold her in his arms and never let go, to listen to her melodic laugh day after day, to see one her luminous smiles curl her lips and to just be by her side... The question was how was he going to tell Tessa that without putting his foot in his mouth like he always seemed to do when it came to her?

Now, that was a question he had yet to answer and he wasn't sure he was going to be able to.

Damn.

Shaking his head, Edward peered through the ocean and finding the main site of the wreck, pushed himself through the current towards the decaying ship. On what would have been the deck, he found the hatch that would've led to the hull of the ship. Easing it open - so it didn't collapse - he let the hatch fall onto the deck, gripping the edge and using it to push him deeper into the ships belly; well, what was left of it. The ships hill was little more than an empty skeleton, much of what would have been the belly of the ship in splinters or missing entirely, it's wooden presence replaced with the sea floor. Looking through the gloom, Edward spotted the chest that could only hold the medicine he sought. It rested beneath a wooden beam which, after swimming closer to it, he supported the beam under his shoulder and pushed it to the side, the movement causing the entire ship to groan and with it, part of the ship that had barely held together since its sinking, began to collapse on top go him. Frantically, Edward pushed himself away from the chest and the falling beams, the decaying wood just missing him by a couple of centimetres as it crashed to the ocean floor, disturbing the sand so it puffed about him in little white clouds that momentarily blinded him. The moment he could see clearly, Edward darted forward and grabbed at the bottle of medicine half buried in the sand surrounded by the remains of the chest it had been nestled inside for the past couple of years. In the moment his fingers closed around the green bottle, a sense of relief seemed to flood his entire body and he seemed to become almost lighter in the water.

He had done what he had come to do.

Tucking the bottle in a safe place, he looked around the remains of the ship and, finding a large tunnel that seemed to be large enough for Edward to easily slip through, pulls himself through the entry and begins to swim the length. As he delved further and further into the dark, that fact seemed to only become more and more real and the elation that came with it only propelled him faster through the water - that, and the sudden realisation that it meant he could return to _her_ and finally fix what was broken.

And for some reason, that seemed more important to him than the tiny bottle that held the fate of an entire colony.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Do you think he'll be okay down there?"

Steve looks at me from out of the corner of his eye, his elbows resting on the solid wood of the ship, leaning over the waters edge with me as we anxiously await Edwards' arrival. He twirls the tip of his moustache thoughtfully, considering how to answer my query and after a moment, he offers me a gentle smile: "I think he'll be fine. This is Edward we're talking about."

I can't help but laugh; it seems like such a obvious conclusion to come to, that I can't help but wonder how I didn't reach it first. With a smile of my own, I watch the waves lap against the side of the ship and play with the locket Edward had given, finding comfort in the small silver pendant that sat just above my collarbones. However, even though there is a smile on my lips and a confidence to Bonnet's words, I can't help the flicker of doubt that nags at me relentlessly. "You're right," I say although I can tell from Bonnet's face that I certainly don't look appeased, "this is Edward we're talking about."

"What has you so concerned?"

"I don't know," I admit, pushing myself away from the ships edge so that I can pace the expansive length of the deck, "I'm just- it's just- there's sharks and jellyfish and god knows what else down there... I'm just worried he won't..."

"He won't come back?" Thatch offers from his perch, tilting back his head as he tries to swallow the remaining drops of rum from the slender brown bottle he clasps in his hand - his third or so, by the looks of it. "Edward'll come back, Lass... or he'll die trying."

"That's what I'm afraid of," I say with a pointed look in Thatch's direction, snatching the clearly empty bottle out of his hands, "don't you think that you've had enough?"

"The best part about being a pirate, Lass?" Thatch says, unfazed by judgement and already reaching for a new bottle and cracking it upon. He pauses with the bottle halfway to his lips, thinking over what he's about to say: "scratch that - the second best thing about being a pirate?"

"What?"

"The endless supply of rum that we carry aboard our ship," he says.

"And what if all the rum is gone?" I ask, mildly curious as to what his answer may be.

Thatch lowers his bottle and glares pointedly as me. "That's the kind of talk that'll have you swimming back to Nassau, Lass," he says, gesturing with the brown bottle so enthusiastically that some of the rum sloshes over the rim and drizzles down the bottles smooth sides, "even if we finish our supply, we'll simply absconder some more."

"Aren't we supposed to avoid terrorising the merchant fleets?"

"I-" Thatch pauses and tilting his head to the side, scratches at his beard in thought. He looks down at the now half-full bottle clasped in his hand and, with a look of immense regret, lowers it to the decks wooden floor, "I had not thought of that... not thought of that at all."

I giggle at the disappointment on Thatch's face, covering my smile with my hand. Bonnet joins in not a moment later, a soft chuckle which only prompts my to giggle louder until the two of us are clutching at our sides and wiping away the tears in our eyes - clearly, rum was very _very_ important to the man who was known as the fiercest captain of the high seas; I guess everyone has there weakness. At our laughter, Thatch looks over at the pair of us and glares that kind of glare that people often joke would make hell freeze over. Bonnet immediately ceases to laugh, looking like a deer caught in headlight under Thatch's fearsome look but Bonnet's distress only causes me to laugh harder and I have to turn away from the pair of them, pressing a hand to my mouth in an attempt to stifle my laughter and dim my smile.

"Diving bell on return to ship, captain!" a crew member calls out to Thatch, a declaration that immediately wipes the smile off my face.

I look towards the black-bearer pirate, who swipes the hat of his head and turns to face the calm ocean, fiddling with the hats brim. He looks towards me and then looks towards the diving bell, which several of his crew members are fussing over in order to bring the metal contraption safely aboard the deck of the Queen Anne's Revenge. "Go," he says as if this is the most obvious thing in the world and really, it is.

 _What's wrong with me?_ I think, shaking my head at my own ineptness. But even though I ask myself that, I know what's wrong as I approach the throng of people gathered on the opposite end of the ship. Small tremors shake my body as I creep closer and closer, nerves forcing me to shorten each step till I'm practically shuffling along, my fingers wrapped around the butterfly-engraved locket so tightly that the metal wings cut into the flesh of my hand. I can feel my heart racing in my chest, pounding faster and faster against my ribcage as my eyes seek out the one person I desperately wanted to see but the moment my eyes land on Edward, every fibre in my body tells me to turn tail and run; while screaming is an option, although an extreme one at that.

 _I'm not ready, i'm not ready, i'm not ready... R_ ound and round that same thought floats in my mind as I force myself to keep walking, to keep my eyes on him, _I'm not ready, I'm not ready... I_ _can't_ do _this!_

"Welcome back."

I cringe at the sound of my own voice and flinch away as Edward turns to face me, his blue eyes unreadable as he looks me up and down - once, twice - before pushing back his blonde curls which are stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck. My heart pounds harder and faster in my chest and I can't help but blush as I gaze at the man before me: rivets of water flow down his chiseled, tattooed arms and chest, sparkling in the fading light of the day. My eyes follow the droplets of water, lingering on each and every tattoo I could see and I find myself wondering what each tattoo meant - although some of them were easier to guess than others.

"Tess."

"Yes?" I squeak, feeling that familiar warmth that only Edward seemed to inspire seep through my body, trying desperately not to grin when I hear him use that particular nickname. Realising however that I was still staring at him, I jerk my gaze up from Edward's well-toned chest to his eyes which were just as spellbinding as always, drawing me in and refusing to let me go until I had sufficiently drowned in the blue depths. I tighten my grip further on the locket, pressing it closer to my skin as Edward leans towards me, water dripping from his hair unto my skin.

"My eyes are up here," he teases after a heartbeat, pulling back with a wry smile.

I feel my cheeks burn as my heart flutters and I duck my head to avoid his keen eyes from picking up on it, "r-right. Sorry."

"No need to apologise."

"Um," I say, awkwardly shuffling my feet. With a sigh and a silent scolding to myself for my suddenly shy behaviour, I thrust my arm towards Edward and hold out for him a thin towel that, although dry, had clearly seen better days. "It's not the cleanest but its dry…"

"...Thanks," Edward says softly, reaching for the towel with a small smile still curling his lips.

As he reaches for the towel however, Edwards fingers brush mine causing that sweet heat to flood my body and with a gasp, I can't stopp myself from jerking away from his touch. And just as I do that, Edward does the same, the rag fluttering to the floor between us looking as sad and dejected as I felt.

 _Why did I_ do _that?_ I think, flustered as I bent over and retrieved the old rag from the decking, holding it out him while my eyes remained firmly lowered, studying my boots intently almost as if I had never seen them before. I knew why I did… I just couldn't understand why I had gone through with it. I was honestly like a young, blushing schoolgirl who was talking to her crush for the very first time but after all Edward and I had been through, it was pointless.

"Thank you," Edward repeats softly, his fingers once again brushing against mine as he grabs the towel.

I shiver and prepare to draw away again, but he grabs hold of my hand and pulls me closer, pressing my small frame against his firm body which despite being wet, is still incredibly warm. The sudden force has me nearly tripping over my feet though but I manage to stop myself from face planting into Edward, my hands resting against his chest to cushion my fall, my breath hitching as I feel his wet skin beneath my the palm of my hands. I can feel the steady beat of his heart, pounding against his chest just a little bit faster than what I expected it to be and in my transfixed state, I can't help but trace his tattoos with the tips of my fingers, feeling Edward beneath by light touch.

He grabs at my hands - dropping the barely used towel - and looks down at me, his own breaths coming away now slightly faster, the pupils of his eyes dilated slightly. For a moment we simply stare at each other, gauging the others reaction before considering how we should proceed and, like he so often does, Edward takes the lead. He releases my hands in favour of cupping my face between his palms, drawing my face closer to his so we remain only a breath away and then... he presses his lips to mine and I feel all of my worries, all of my doubts and fears and frustrations fly out the window as I sink into the kiss. I throw my arms around his neck so that I can curl my fingers into his soft blonde hair, obediently opening my mouth when his tongue urges me to do so. He steals away every breath of air in my lungs, turning my knees weak to the point were Edward has to wrap an arm around my waist to keep me upright, spreading that familiar heat - that I hadn't realised I missed until now - throughout my body, from the top of my head to the tip of my toes.

And, just as suddenly as it begins… it ends.

However, although the kiss was everything and more, there was something sad about it. Almost like it was a farewell but that couldn't be it... could it?

"Tonight," Edward breathes heavily, his voice a low murmur. He rests his forehead against mine as his fingers catch a loose strand of my hair, curling the red strands over his fingers before tucking it behind my ear, "tonight… okay, Tess?"

I can only nod, too breathless to find my voice.

"Interrupting something, are we?"

"Yes," Edward jokes, looking over my head to Thatch and Bonnet, a wry smile curling his lips as he regards his friends.

"No," I answer back, slapping at Edwards' forearm before I turn away, massaging my cheeks as the blush returns. Flustered, a run a hand through my hair and desperately try to think up an excuse on the spot but all I can manage is a few 'umms' and 'ahhhs.' There was no point to it anyway, considering that both Bonnet and Thatch knew that there was something more than simple friendship between Edward and I… well, they knew that there had been but considering how uncertain things were, I was reluctant to put a label to it.

Even if the bloody man had just swept me off my feet with that kiss.

"Any luck?" Thatch asks.

Edwards' face sobers, all traces of laughter gone in a manner of seconds. "I found one crate hidden beneath a school of sharks. Sadly," he shakes his head and pulls out a tiny green bottle, uncorking it and upending it on the deck, a sickly green liquid drizzling out, "the elixir inside is…"

"Quite spoilt," I finish, curling my lip in distaste as the smell of the rancid medicine hit my nose. Honestly, it smelt just as bad as it looked.

Glancing over at Thatch, I raise my eyebrow as I take in what the pirate has clutched in his hands - a lit torch, which he held precariously close to his hat. Catching my curious gaze, the pirate smiles and says, "be patient…"

"Like you know what 'patient' is," I tease, shaking my head as I watch Bonnet take a sniff of the medicine bottle and giggling at the horrified expression he makes upon catching the scent.

"Regardless of that," the pirate growls, tossing aside the torch with a quick flick of his wrist. It rolls harmlessly across the deck while Thatch storms away, grinding his teeth with a dark expression upon his face, "plague and perish! Will we steal medicines now?"

"Somehow, I feel that goes against Hornigold's rules of sticking to the pardon," I say, with a shake of my head.

"Tess is right," Edward says, following his mentors' agitated pacing with his eyes, "remember the pardon, Thatch. We're to be subtle."

That just seems to irritate the man further. "Says Hornigold!" he snarls, shooting Edward a withering glare, "a pirate now too proud to call himself one!"

"Thatch…" I start, taking a step towards him but stopping mid-stride when his anger is turned on me.

Edward, undaunted by Thatch's black mood, pulls me to his side with a quick shake of his head. He turns his gaze to the horizon and says quietly, "He prefers caution to cannons."

"Caution's nothing without charisma!" Thatch growls, crossing the deck in a few short, angry strides. He presses close to Edward, his voice dangerously low as his notorious temper begins to flare up. Taking a deep breath, he looks away for a moment before glancing back at Edward, a determined glint to his eyes. "For if a man plays the fool, then it's only fools he'll persuade."

"But appear to be the devil," he continues slowly, as if willing Edward and I - but mostly Edward - to understand his reasoning, "and all men will submit."

Edward, after a moment to take it all in, smirks and tilts his head slightly towards Thatch. "And would you be the devil?" he asks.

For a moment, the two simply stare at each other. Then Thatch, tightening his grip on his hat, raises it to his head where four fuses sit beneath the brim and smoke as they burn. He grins, an almost sadistic, devilish glint to his gaze and in that moment, I could believe that he really was the devil - or a complete psychopath.

"For an audience, aye," he says with a nod, "it's all a big show."

"And a convincing one at that," I mutter, folding my arms over my chest as I regard the pirate whose stories were regained to me as a child, whose stories used to scare me shitless to the point where I wouldn't board any boat out of fear it would be absconded by pirates like Blackbeard. Of course, back in my time, there were no pirates quite so legendary as to strike fear into the hearts of sailors - there were pirates but none so fearsome as those from this golden age.

He spares me a quick grin as he passes, strolling almost casually towards Bonnet who stood off to the side as if he was uncertain where he fitted into the grand scheme of things. Honestly, Thatch's careful steps and the way he looked Bonnet up and down silently, was far more terrifying than his anger; and it seemed Bonnet agreed. He trembled as the pirate approach, shrinking back as to appear smaller and more docile - a usual fight or flight instinct.

"Give your quarry something to fear," Thatch continues, still watching Bonnet and almost circling the poor man as he got closer and closer, "some hellish thing from a fevered dream…"

He stops.

"… and men will drop to their knees," he continues, voice low and dangerous as he looms over the near terrified Bonnet, "pleading for their lord _before aught else!"_

His voice ends at a terrifying roar and I can't help but flinch away, even though Thatch was a couple of strides away. I could only imagine how Thatch looked up close, radiating as much anger and power as he was. From the angle Bonnet was at, it would have to be a terrifying site - the fuses burning brightly, casting smoke about Thatch's face which, due to the angle, was half hidden by shadows and bathed in the reddish glow of the sunset.

If anything… Thatch truly like the devil.

I could totally understand why Bonnet looked as pale as a ghost.

"Oh… God…" Bonnet manages to gasp out, stumbling back a couple of steps.

"Jesus Thatch," I cry out, "you're gonna give the poor man a heart attack!"

Edward chuckles, folding his arms over his chest as he looks on. "Looks fine," he jokes, laughing as I swat at his arm.

"'Course it does," Thatch answers in a calm, even tone of voice, turning away and making his way towards the helm of his ship. "If you can find a quiet way to acquire medicines," Thatch says, looking over his shoulder at the pair of us, "tell me soon." He continues his ascent, raising his voice so it can be heard from the newfound distance, "otherwise, I'll handle it myself."

Edward tugs at my hand and we drift away but I can't help but I can't help but shiver at the thinly veiled threat Thatch had made. We had to do something… otherwise, chaos would erupt on the Caribbean Sea.

0-0-0-0-0-0

He found her exactly where he knew she would be: at the bow of the ship, the wind whipping her loose hair wildly around her heart-shaped face, her pale skin aglow under the pale light of the moon. She leaned against the ships bow, her luminous eyes watching the waves that rushed from the ship as it cut through the otherwise silent and still sea. Her full lips were open slightly as if in wonder and he himself could not help but stare at her in complete awe. As if sensing his gaze, Tessa turned her head, her fingers holding back her wild, fiery-red hair as it flowed about her face and upon noticing him, her lips curled into a soft smile; and although it was small and maybe a little strained - to be expected, of course - but it still took Edwards' breath away.

"I'm sorry that we didn't have better luck," she says softly once he's within an earshot.

"Better luck with what?" Edward asks, leaning against the bow of his ship as he regards the tiny, beautiful woman.

She rolls her eyes and giggles, giving him a look that plainly said he should know what she was discussing without having to tell him. "Better luck with the medicine," she clarifies, "I know how important it is for us to find some… it's to save our home."

"You know… when I first met you, that word and Nassau wouldn't even be in the same sentence."

Tessa tilts back her head and laughs, catching her head and pushing the strands behind her ears and to Edwards' surprise, he noticed a small, silver stud glittering on her earlobe; he'd never noticed that she had pierced ears but ti wasn't like Tessa wore a lot of jewellery in the first place. In fact, the only piece she did wear day in and day out was the silver locket he had gifted her in Kingston - and before that, before she had lost it, it had been the small pearl she had fashioned into a necklace back in Nassau.

"Things change," she says with a soft, affectionate smile, her gaze trained back on the still ocean. With a sigh, she shakes her head and then tilts it to the side, seeming to choose her words carefully before she continued in her soft, melodic voice. "I still miss home… and I'd like to go back one day I think. But Nassau _has_ become my home," she turns her gaze upon him and immediately, Edward is trapped in her blue-green, serious gaze, "and I don't want anything to happen to it. That would be… too heartbreaking to bear."

"I'm glad," Edward says and at her surprised expression, he chuckles under his breath and reaches over to smooth down her fiery hair. "I'm glad that you consider you're home," he explains, "I'm glad that you've settled."

"Well," she says somewhat matter of factly, "it's been how many years since we ran into each other?"

He can't help but laugh at that, "true… true."

"Besides… I have friends there; like Anne and Mary and you and Adè and now Bonnet... even Thatch I consider a friend, a _good_ friend, even if he does share me shitless." Both of them laugh at that because, there was nothing more true nor honest than that statement. After the laughter has died down, she continues: "and I have a wonderful job at the Old Avery and I have so many great adventures with you, even if sometimes they can be a little overwhelming and dangerous. But really, what more could I want?"

"You tell me."

She pauses, searching his face in case he wasn't being serious. Finding no trace of mirth, only patience and curiosity, she reaches for the locket at her throat and fiddles with it, stroking the butterfly wings with a contemplative look up her beautiful face. "I'd like us to fix whatever it is we broke," she eventually whispers, looking away from his gaze as a blush burns brightly against her ivory skin.

"Ok…"

"I mean, we constantly fight and argue and have these misunderstandings that just leave me tired and confused and… lonely."

"I…" Edward pauses, searching for the right words, "I understand. I really do, Tess."

"I just…" she falters, turning her gaze back to the star-studded sky with a helpless shrug of her shoulders, "I just wish it would stop, that it would all end."

It was as if she had physically knocked the breath out of him, as if she was confirming his worst fears; which she was. Did she mean it? Did she really want this all to end? He couldn't blame her… this hadn't exactly been the life she had chosen; hadn't he promised to her all those years ago, on that very day they had met, that he would bring her home or at least tried to help? He hadn't done much in that department. _S_ he had kinda just fallen into his world and he hadn't question it but Edward honestly thought… he thought that she had become accustomed to it. To all the ups and down, all the danger, all the excitement - that she had become accustomed to being by his side through and thin. She was probably homesick, missing her brother and her parents and her friends and… and _him._

The very thought of her with another man sickened him to his stomach. But it wasn't like she owed him anything. Yeah, the two of them and shared a few kisses, a few intimate moments but they weren't exactly together and for gods sake, while he could have fun - not that Tessa was just for fun… she was so much more to him than merely a toy to which he could amuse himself with - Edward did have a wife. That he loved. Very much… right?

"Edward?" she says, her voice almost far away. Edward felt her fingers brush his arm, breaking him out of his rampaging thoughts. The touch was silent inquiry as to whether he was ok and with a quick shake of his head, he forced himself to focus on her, to curl his lips into a smile which felt more like a grimace with each passing second and… well... lie.

"I'm fine," Edward says slowly, "just… lost in thought."

"Oh."

"… You're right, you know?"

"I… I am?" Tessa asks, her beautiful eyes widening in surprise, raising one somehow perfectly arched, dark eyebrow, "about what exactly?"

"All of it."

"I don't quite…" she says, her face melting into one of confusion.

Swallowing thickly, Edward forced himself to turn back to the petite girl by his side, his eyes finding her inquisitive gaze. He almost faltered, seeing those doe-like eyes and that tiny half-smile pulling at her lips but he made himself continue.

"You're right," he repeats.

"Edward?"

"Let's end this… all of this."

* * *

 _Once more I write a line to you,_  
 _While darker shadows fall;_  
 _Dear friends of mine who have been true,_  
 _And steadfast through it all._  
 _If I have written bitter rhymes,_  
 _With many lines that halt,_  
 _And if I have been false at times_  
 _It was not all my fault._

 _To Heaven's decree I would not bow,_  
 _And I sank very low—_  
 _The bitter things are written now,_  
 _And we must let them go._  
 _But I feel softened as I write;_  
 _The better spirit springs,_  
 _And I am very sad to-night_  
 _Because of many things._

 _The friendships that I have abused,_  
 _The trust I did betray,_  
 _The talents that I have misused,_  
 _The gifts I threw away._  
 _The things that did me little good,_  
 _And—well my cheeks might burn—_  
 _The kindly letters that I should_  
 _Have answered by return._

 _But you might deem them answered now,_  
 _And answered from my heart;_  
 _And injured friends will understand_  
 _'Tis I who feel the smart._  
 _But I have done with barren strife_  
 _And dark imaginings,_  
 _And in my future work and life_  
 _Will seek the better things._

 **\- Henry Lawson, 'The Cross-roads' -**


	28. Chapter 25

**A/N: Hello everyone :) Well… here it is, another new chapter of Down the Rabbit Hole *cheers***

 **And not just any new chapter - this is THE chapter! The one you've all been waiting for (I think, I hope) - well… it's the chapter I've been waiting for.**

 **I'm so glad it's done and dusted and yet, even as I write that, I can't help but be a little nervous. Was it written the way I wanted it to be written? Has everything that played out in my head been translated to the screen? Have I done** **enough? IS THIS HOW I WANTED IT TO BE?! URGH!**

 **I love this chapter; it's probably the one I've been wanting to write the most but it's also the one I've dreaded writing the most - well, apart from the ending… maybe. It is a pivotal moment in my fanfic and I can't help but want it to be perfect - of course, I'm always gonna see little flaws in the things I write (hence my occasional re-edits of chapters) but it is my greatest hope that you will all love this chapter.**

 **Reviews welcome :) I'm gonna start trying to reply to them - I've been super slack in that department… but reading them always makes me smile guys. Thank you all for reading and for your continued support! ENJOY :)**

 **-AshTree13 xoxo**

* * *

There's some things I should [say]

[But] I [am] too afraid

[It's] just so hard to let you know...

What we [have is] beautiful

I [don't] want to wreck it all

Every day I think about the truth

I wish I was...

Brave enough to love you…

You [strip] away the walls [I've] built

Like no one ever has…

[Are] we… meant to last?

I [think I am]

Brave enough to love you…

I [don't] want to wreck it all

[But] every day I think about [you]…

[And now I know that]

[I'm] brave enough to love you…

 **\- Lindsey Stirling, 'Brave Enough' -**

* * *

 **Chapter 25:**

It was like the world had become this inescapable blackhole and I was at its centre.

Edwards' words - _Let's end this… let's end this… let's end this..._ \- circulated at the forefront of my mind, pulling me further and further into my encroaching despair. I was drowning in it... and I wasn't sure what I should do. Do I fight against the current, against the pull? Do I kick and fight my way back to that distant surface, clawing tooth and nail to get there... screaming all the way? Or do I let it drag me under, steal all of my breath and just let go? Let it take me away to some far off, distant place where reality could not encroach upon my happiest memories and dreams?

What do I do?

I don't know what to do.

All I could do was stare at Edward… and stare and stare and stare.

"Tess?"

Was that Edward's voice? It seemed so far away - muted almost - as if he was speaking to me from beneath the surface of the calm ocean, not a few centimetres away.

"Tess?" he repeats, his filled with concern and confusion. I watch him reach for me, the tips of his fingers dusting against my sleeve. The skin of his hands lightly brush against the inside of my wrist; so cold to the touch that I flinch away, pulling my hands to my chest as my heart pounds.

 _Oh…? it hurts…?_ My hands tighten around a fistful of my blouse, as if they are desperately seeking my aching heart as it beats evenly in my chest - to comfort? I don't know. My face twists in confusion and I shake my head, whimpering as I do; and all the while, I don't know why it hurts…

But maybe I do.

Oh, I do.

I know. I know why it hurts.

 _Let's end this… but why?_

"Why does it hurt?" I ask although I'm not sure exactly who I am questioning - myself? Edward? The vast sea? And really, what was the bloody point if I already knew the answer? Maybe I wanted someone else to tell me why, maybe that would make it more real… would it make it more real?

"What hurts?" Edward asks, his voice sounding somewhat frantic; he probably thought I was having a nervous breakdown.

Maybe I was.

No… I definitely was.

But why?

I almost seem to sway on the spot as I look up at him, my lower lip trembling as my nails dig into the palm of my hands, cutting half-moon shapes into the soft skin. Another whimper pulls itself from the back of my throat, the sound almost piercing in the near silent night and startles me out of my private, destructive thoughts, plunging me straight into my crumbling reality. He almost seems to blur, Edward that is, the longer I stare at him and at first, that only seems to confuse my already muddled brain until I realise, somewhat numbly, that its because I'm crying - well not quite crying, but close to leaping off that edge. My heart seems to speed up, fluttering erratically and each breath becomes shorter and shorter as the building tidal wave of panic sets in and strikes me; in that moment the world seems to tilt precariously and it feels as if my feet are no longer grounded to the deck of the Jackdaw, like I'm floating away on the gentle breeze whispering across the ocean.

And I'm falling:

Down.

Down.

Down… into that blackhole once again.

0-0-0-0-0-0

He managed to just catch her as she fell.

His knee hit the deck of the Jackdaw - hard - but he barely felt the pain as he bundled up Tessa's body, protecting her petite frame from the surface of his beloved ship as she crumpled in on herself, cradling her head against his chest as he settled her limp body upon the deck. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he trailed his fingers through her silken locks, his grey-blue studying her frightfully pale face as he struggled to retain his composure as he knew that the sickly pallor to Tessa's skin and the uneven breaths struggling from her parted, ruby lips, was his fault.

It was all his fault.

Why had he said what he had said?

He had tried to tell himself it was because he loved her, and that it was the right thing to do because of his love for her. She was a not a pretty little songbird to cage, no matter how marvellous, how dazzling the cage he would build for her may be; she had to be set free…

But why did that feel like a death sentence?

With a frustrated sigh, he gathers Tessa in his arms and pulls himself upright, stumbling momentarily from the sudden increase of weight on his upper torso. Readjusting his grip, he pulls her body closer and presses a kiss to her forehead, breathing in that familiar scent that always seemed to put his heart and mind at ease; this time though, it only unsettles him further.

 _What exactly am I doing?_

If only he had an answer.

0-0-0-0-0-0

 _Where am I?_

For a moment upon waking, I couldn't tell if I was truly awake or still lost in my empty dreams but as my eyes adjusted to the gloom, it was easy to determine that I was - thankfully - no longer dreaming; then again, was my reality any better?

I pull myself upright with a groan, pushing back the wild mess of curls that fell into my eyes, my fingers becoming stuck in the tangles as I comb them through. For a moment I sit there, untangling my hair and allowing for my befuddled, sleep-riddled brain to try and piece together the events of my seemingly eventful evening; however, the longer I sat there, the more my mind seemed to draw a blank. With I sigh, I glance about the room and slowly blink, allowing for my eyes to adjust to the gloom perpetuating the room - from that alone, I knew that some time had passed since I was last awake; it was easy to recall then, the orange, cloudless sky and the fading sun seen sparkling over a deep blue, wondrous ocean from the deck of rocking ship. And from that, the memories of that man, framed by a dim, orange glow, begin to resurface before I promptly toss them aside, noting the tightening in my chest and the sick feeling in my stomach that arises as Edward once again resurfaces in my thoughts.

I should've expected as much; Edward was never far from my mind.

Shaking my head - as if to dislodge the man from my thoughts - I throw off the heavy duvet that covers both the bed and myself. I didn't have the time nor the energy to waste thinking about _him_ ; I had other pressing issues to attend to… like where in God's name was I?

Glancing about the room, the familiar decor jumps out at me, answering that question before the thought can fully form; dark wooden panelling, yards of crimson fabric thrown over low beams, cascading to the floor into puddles of red that bled into the opaque floorboards, exposed everywhere but at the centre of the room, in which a large Persian carpet - in red, of course - was laid out beneath the centrepiece table. That table I knew without sparing it a glance; it held a map of the Western Indies - of both the sea and the lands, uncharted and discovered - as well as rolls of blank parchment, an abundance of maps I had yet to see, ink and quills and a candle which looked as if it had been recently replaced. It was burning as bright as a candle that size could, casting a dim, flickering glow across the shadowed room and in that moment, as the shadows casted by the candles' light pass over my skin, I realise that even though I recognised the surroundings as Edwards' private quarters - the captain's cabin on the Jackdaw - I had yet to extensively investigate the somewhat cramped, cluttered room. Of course, I had been in here before but only to sleep… and more; but those memories were lost in a fever dream, a moment of pure ecstasy.

And the one time I had been left to my own devices, it had been against my will; exploring the countless shelves of books, of ornaments, of strange contraptions and gadgets and trinkets, had been the furthest thing from my mind as a battle had raged from outside the confines of the cabin and I could do nothing but stare blankly at the locked door.

Looking about the room now, I was almost startled by the fact that it was a lot larger than I originally perceived; with all of the clutter and the various pieces of furniture stern about the space, the room had shrunk to about half of its potential size but at the same time, I expected it. This was the place where Edward spent a majority of his time after all; not even his lodgings in Nassau held so many trinkets and treasures and artefacts, and from what I could recall of the mansion in the Great Inagua, even that was sparse in comparison, many of the possessions remnants of its previous owner - although, I had no idea what it looked like now... it had been years, thinking back on it, since I had last set foot on the secluded island.

Recalling the island somewhat fondly, I swing my legs over the edge of the mattress and as I do, my bare toes skim against the cool wood of the cabin floor. The sudden chill forces me to pause in my endeavours - losing my train of thought - because I was certain that earlier I had been wearing my favourite pair of boots… right? I mean, it wasn't like I had been strolling about the deck barefoot. Considering, however, that my memory was one big, giant blank, I couldn't be certain. Upon quickly giving myself a once over, I was relieved to find myself still fully dressed:

My not-so-white white blouse? Check.

Brown, worn leather pants? Check.

Black corseted vest? Check.

My fingers skim across my throat, following the path of a warm silver chain before closing around the ever-present locket that sat against my steadily beating heart: locket? Check.

And, resting carefully against the far right wall - grouped amongst an array of books and loose slips of parchment and maps, strewn across the floor out of laziness or lack of shelf space - were my pair of beloved, well-worn boots.

 _I'm still in one piece,_ I conclude, rising to my feet and rushing towards the boots, pulling them on quickly and efficiently lacing the knee-high leather in neat, little loops. _So… what happened?_

What indeed.

Ugh! This was going to be a lot more difficult than I thought.

Pushing back the tendrils of my hair with a sigh, I straighten my shoulders and place my hands on my hips, surveying the room with lingering curiosity.

 _I guess I could waste some time in trying to kickstart my fragmented memories,_ I muse to myself, the heels of my boots clicking against the floorboards as I walk from one end of the room to the next. My fingers ghost over the spines of books - many of which I had not heard of - the blank pages of spare parchment - which fell to the floor when I disturbed them - the polished wood of the furniture - in which clutter upon clutter reigned supreme, graced with the light of a few flickering candles - before I stop before a model ship, my fingers catching the small white sails between my fingertips. But while this experience was intriguing, I had other things to do: like work out exactly what had happened earlier on deck because my befuddled brain had yet to prove itself helpful, no matter how hard I tried to conjure up the memories of past events; I could recall, however meeting Bonnet and Thatch, Edward diving the _San Ignacio,_ Thatch's disappointment with the lack of salvageable medicine and the 'peace' Hornigold had forced him to agree to and... Blushing furiously, I run my index finger over my lower lips as I recall how Edward's had been there hours ago, urging my mouth to open under his and reigniting that familiar fire which had been smouldering since-

 _Oh no...Don't you_ dare _think about Kingston!_

The little voice seemed to scream it at me, though I couldn't help but recall those memories, even if they made my heart ache.

 _Stupid, stupid me._

"What is wrong with me?" I groan, throwing my face into my hands.

"I would say nothing... but that would be a lie."

Startled, I swear I jump nearly ten feet in the air but soon years of training and natural instinct find my fingers automatically reaching for the nearest potential weapon - in this instance, a dulled quill - as I turn sharply on my heel, preparing to face a potential threat. With my heart hammering in my chest and my arm drawn back in order to strike, I inhale sharply and throw the quill to the floor as my gaze takes in Edward's silhouette, one hand holding open the cabin's door while the other balances a tray laden with what appeared to be a block of cheese, some bread and what I could assume was either alcohol or water in a pewter mug.

"Edward... don't _do_ that!"

"Apologies," the pirate says with a bow of his head and a bewildered smile, "I thought you had heard me knock."

"Well," I say, flustered because I know he probably had and that my lack of hearing was probably due to me being distracted by unnecessary thoughts about _him;_ with a inaudible sigh, I try to fight the pout curling my lips and glance away, folding my arms over my chest, "well... clearly I hadn't."

"Sorry."

"You already said that."

"Well then..." he shrugs helplessly, turning away from me as he quietly but firmly closes the door, "what more do you want from me?"

"Nothing."

Edward sighs, "don't do that, Tessa."

"Do _what_?" I ask.

"You know what? Never mind."

"God," I exclaim, throwing up my hands, "you're so _annoying._ Why can't you just finish what you were going to say, or are you to scared to actually talk to me?"

"I'm annoying?" Edward snaps, slamming the tray he held on the nearest available surface with a loud thump, catching the mug before it toppled over from the force, "you're the annoying one, always twisting what I say to suit your own agenda."

"I don't-"

"-and I'm _not_ afraid to talk to you Tessa," Edward interrupts with a sari, "I'm just sick and tired of trying to talk to you when you don't want to listen."

"I don't listen? _You_ don't listen! And it's not like you talk to me anyway! You'd rather run away and avoid me, than actually try to make an attempt to sort out the problem," I scream back, knowing that by this point irrational anger had made my face red and my words dangerous, "and when I do manage to corner you, when I finally get you to _listen_ to me, you change the bloody subject - every time! You're a coward, that's what you are."

"If I'm coward, then so are you!" he roars back, striding towards me in two short, angry strides. He slams his hand against the table, scattering quills and parchment and toppling inkwells, the black ink that had been bottle inside spilling out from the dislodged cork, spreading quickly across the table in an all-consuming war path that Edward all but ignored. He leans over me so that are eyes are level, his face red with barely concealed anger that i'm sure reflected my own perfectly.

"You run away from conflict, afraid that if you say something someone won't like they'll toss you aside," he continues in a low voice, "you say I don't listen, that I run away from our problems and our issues and yet you do the exact same thing... you can't judge someone for their actions when it mimics your own, Tess. That's called being a hypocrite."

"Well... who knew you could be so serious," I say sarcastically, placing both hands on his chest and shoving him back with all of my strength - although the force of it only has him backtracking one or two steps.

"See? You're avoiding the subject right now."

'Yes, ok! I'm only human."

"Really?" Edward drawls, throwing up his arms, "who would've guessed."

"Stop being idiot," I snap.

"You stop being an idiot."

"Argh!" I shout, stamping my feet and fisting my fingers in my hair, tempted to pull out handfuls in my anger although I resist - mostly because common sense tells me that it would be a very bad and very painful idea; "this whole conversation is pointless!"

"Well," Edward says, rolling his eyes and folding his arms over his, "you started it, I only wanted to offer you something to eat and drink - like a gentleman."

"A 'gentleman?'" I ask in disbelief, unable to hold back a sharp, barking laugh, "You're hardly a gentleman, and what do you mean by 'I started it?' I think you meant, _you_ started it."

"Hardly... I meant you."

"Well it was you."

"No," Edward says, shaking his head, "it was you."

"Oh my god, you're so annoying."

"And now, we've come full circle," Edward says, applauding softly with a sarcastic smile, "well done Tess, that got us no where."

"How about instead of sarcasm, you actually say something constructive for once," I suggest with a sweet, incredibly fake smile.

"Ouch, you wound me."

"Now whose avoiding the subject," I accuse, walking up to him and poking him hard in the chest - although the action in itself proves to be a little more painful for me than for him... I really didn't think that - or anything, up to this point - through; the curse of irrational anger combined with bull-headed stubbornness, as my brother would call it.

"...I think we both are," Edward replies eventually and somewhat reluctantly, unable to meet my gaze.

"I think you're right."

"I'm always right."

Our eyes meet... and simultaneously, we burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter, doubling over with our arms wrapped around our stomachs and tears burning our eyes, which only cause us to laugh harder and harder. I don't know how we ended up at that point but, as we wheeze and gasp for air, wiping at the corners of our eyes where tears have gathered and threaten to fall, I know that this was where I would rather be. I hated arguing with Edward; even if it was a common occurrence. It always made me feel so guilty, so regretful... it had been the same with Desmond. Hell, it was the same with my brother and with Rebecca and Lucy and Anne and Mary and anyone I was close with. No one likes confrontation... and yet, it was part of what made us arguably human.

"What are we even fighting about?" Edward asks with a laugh, his face betraying his own confusion and only emphasising my own.

With a giggle, I wipe at my eyes and lean against one of the many bookshelves scattered about the room, shaking my head in almost stunned disbelief, "you know what? I don't even know anymore..."

"Nor do I."

"I just wish we could stop fighting, you know?" I say somewhat wistfully, the thought somewhat familiar, nagging at hidden memories. I reach for the locket at my neck which I knew subconsciously would comfort and relax me, my fingers running against the uneven, decorative surface as I continue, "but I guess it's part of our relationship... the never-ending bickering."

"Well," Edward murmurs, dropping his weight against the same bookshelf as me, his forearm pressing against mine and his head leant back against the smooth, polished wood. He closes his eyes and sighs, running a hand through his short blonde hair as a frown etches itself across his handsome face.

"Edward?"

He opens his eyes and glances over a me, a small smile on his face that was... sad but I could not exactly determine why. The smile made my heart hurt, nudging at a memory that was close but just out of reach - why did it make my head pound, my heart pound, my stomach sink? What was I missing here? I continue to search for that fragment, desperately grasping at tendrils but still getting nothing but blackness and confusion.

While I battle with my mind, Edward reaches over and catches a strand of my hair between his thumb and index finger, curling the strand around his fingers almost thoughtfully. "You'll be happy to know that that's entirely possible," Edward tells me to my utter confusion.

"What's entirely possible?"

"An end to all of our arguing."

"That would be nice," I say jokingly, subconsciously attempting to lighten the oppressive mood, "but I doubt that will ever happen - it's just part of human nature and it's kind of difficult to change ones nature in the blink of an eye... besides, I wouldn't want you to change. You're perfectly imperfect, Edward Kenway."

"Please, we all know I'm perfect, Tess," Edward jokes back, nudging me in the ribs playfully with a small laugh and shake of his head, "but thanks all the same."

"You're welcome."

"But... that's not what I meant."

"No?" I ask, my curiosity piqued but the sick feeling in my stomach only seems to intensify, and while I curiously anticipate what Edward is about to say, a large part of me dreads the words that will come.

"No."

"Well then... what did you meant?"

"... are you hungry?" Edward suddenly asks, pulling himself off the bookshelf and eyeing the platter of food he had left earlier by the cabins' exist, "I'm sure you are, since you fainted and everything out on deck. I have cheese and some bread and... well, that's it but at least it's filling and-"

"Edward," I laugh, grabbing at his sleeve before he could stride off into the distance. He pauses but his eyes still do not meet mine, so I release my hold on his sleeve and grab his face, his stubbled cheeks resting between my palms as I angle his gaze towards me, one of his hands reaching up to touch my own. "Breathe," I tell him, "and tell me what you actually meant... don't change the subject."

"I-"

"Wait," I interrupt, releasing his face as my face burns and horror seeps into my core, "what do you mean by 'fainted out on deck?'"

"I thought you didn't want to change the subject?"

"What do you mean by I _fainted_ Edward?!"

"Do you really not remember?" he asks me curiously, raising a blond eyebrow. At the shake of my head, his grin widens and takes on an almost impish look, "seriously, nothing?"

"Yes, nothing! I remember nothing! Let alone fainting," I say, burying my blushing face in the palms of my hands while I try not to scream aloud, "oh god... did I really faint?"

"Yes."

"Oh god..."

"You had me a little worried, to be honest," Edward admits, the smile slipping from his lips as he grabs my hands and pulls them away from my burning face, his face clouded now by concern, "are you ok? I'm so sorry, Tess..."

"Why are apologising?" I say, still embarrassingly surprised by my apparent actions - no wonder my brain didn't want to remember.

"Because it was my fault."

"I doubt it," I assure him.

"Ok, it wasn't entirely my fault but you... you... really don't remember, do you?" he asks.

"No," I pause, eyeing the visibly nervous pirate before me, "should I?"

Edward pauses, his expression betraying conflicting emotions, "now I'm not sure whether I should tell you or not; you know, at risk that you're going to faint again from the shock."

"We won't know till we try."

"I'd rather not try."

"Edward," I say, nearing the end of my patience which he seemed to acknowledge.

"Ok, ok," he says wearily, holding his hands out before him in the perfect picture of surrender.

"Spill it."

"Spill what?" he asks, confused.

Exasperated, I shake my head and roll my eyes. "It's a figure of speech," I explain, trying to rein in what little patience I had left - the curiosity was killing me; now I could see where the saying 'curiosity killed the cat' stemmed from. "Does this have something to do with what you meant earlier?"

"Well," Edward looks away, scratching his chin as he deliberates, "yes..."

"Then you have to tell me."

"You're not very patient are you?"

"Edward!" I exclaim, finally losing all sensibility, "just bloody tell me."

"I'm going to go after Thatch..." Edward says after a moment, clasping his hands behind his back as he begins to pace the length of the cabin, "after the disappointment of the _San Ignacio,_ I don't trust him to make the best decisions and as reluctant as I am to admit it, Hornigold may have a point with the whole lying low idea."

"Admitting someone else is right, the world must be coming to an end," I tease as I perch myself atop the centre table, narrowly avoiding the spilt ink as I do.

Ignoring my antics, Edward continues to pace, his fingers running along the spines of books perched atop shelves and the smooth, dark wood of his furniture; "before I catch up to Thatch and stop him from doing something we'll later come to regret... we're going to make a quick stop back in Nassau."

"Wouldn't it be best to just continue?" I ask, swinging my legs and fiddling with my locket as I do, "Thatch is more likely to head for one of the colonies... maybe pick a fight with the British or Spanish navy. They tend to avoid the pirate colony, so even if we need supplies we're better off hitting one of the fishing villages or one of the larger cities like Havana."

"We're not stopping in Nassau for supplies."

"Then why go at all."

Edward stops and slowly turns to face him, his face carefully blank and devoid of emotion: "because that's where you'll be getting off."

"Excuse me?" I ask, raising an eyebrow because I was sure that I had heard him wrong.

"You heard me, Tessa."

Apparently, I hadn't.

"No," I say, shaking my head as I do, disbelief beginning to course throughout my body, "no, no, no... I must've heard you wrong. I'll be getting off in Nassau? Why the Hell would I do that?"

"Because I say so," Edward says gruffly.

"That's not a good enough reason, Edward," I say, jumping off the table and striding towards him, grabbing at his sleeve as he attempts to avoid me, "why the hell am I getting off in Nassau?"

"Because I say so."

"Still not a good enough reason," I snarl, slapping him across the chest - hard enough to make him flinch.

"Because Tessa, I'm doing exactly as you said," he says, grabbing my shoulders and almost shaking me in his attempt to make me understand why he was ripping my heart into tiny, minuscule pieces, "I'm ending this - the fighting, the arguing, the loneliness, the sadness, the frustration... this _thing_ we have - we thought we have - this relationship... everything."

"I don't-" I begin.

"Get it through your head," Edward yells suddenly, startling me to the point where I begin to tremble under his harsh, hard gaze, "I'm done. We're done."

"But..." I start but immediately I can't find the words and every time I try, they die in the back of my throat.

"But why?" I eventually whisper.

"Why?" Edward asks, seemingly confused by my question.

"Yes 'why,'" I shout, startling both him and myself at the sudden increase in volume. "Why, Edward? Why are we done? It's a simple fucking question and I need you to give me a simple, fucking answer because I don't... I don't understand what the Hell is happening."

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

Something within snapped at that point. It was almost like I couldn't hold in the pain in any longer; like the delicate balance between of anger, frustration and sadness that was building up bubbled over the surface and I had to get it out before I imploded. And as that anger, that frustration, that deep, overwhelming, mind-numbing sadness grew, I couldn't stop.

No, that's not quite right.

I didn't _want_ to stop.

It propels me forth; unflinchingly, unapologetically and all that was left was the smouldering ruins of my sanity.

"What _I_ wanted?" I ask in disbelief, trembling from the torrent of emotions - mostly anger - coursing throughout my body, "what _I wanted?!_ How is _this_ what I wanted? How, Edward? How?!"

"Jesus, Tess," Edward yells back, my sudden anger only serving to fuel his own, "it is what you wanted. You said so yourself out on deck. You wanted it to end, you wanted it all to stop."

The memories hit me then like a ton of bricks, my own words coming back to me:

 _I just wish it would all stop, that it would all end._

 _I just wish it would all stop..._

 _That is would all end..._

Yeah... I could kind of see where he could the idea. And yet, even though I now understood why Edward would say it was in my own desires to part from his side, I had yet to comprehend how Edward had come to that conclusion in the first place. Did he really take what I had said - note that my musing were just that, musings and weren't meant for his ears - to heart and come to the conclusion that this... this _mess_ was what I really wanted?

But what had happened after that?

Grasping at the faint, fading memory I could vaguely remember feeling as if I was floating... and then I recall the feeling of plummeting hard and fast...

Down.

Down.

Down… into what felt like blackhole, a never ending nightmare.

 _Oh god,_ I though, my cheeks burning. I can see why I forgot: how embarrassing, to have been so overwhelmed that I fainted. How frustrating, how infuriating that even after all this time, Edward and I just kept chasing each other in circles; constantly hurting one another, never truly understanding what the other wanted but desperately trying to keep ourselves in one piece.

Till now.

Was he an idiot?

Clearly he was.

After everything we had been through... I couldn't understand how easily he had come to be believe my murmurings. Had these past years taught him nothing?

Oddly though, I felt calm, collected and slowly - as if I were in a trance - I open my mouth:

"Are. You. An. Idiot?"

I had to ask. I really did.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you an idiot?" I repeat, somehow managing to retain that eerie and vague sense of calm that had settled upon me after relieving my embarrassing episode.

"Of course I'm not an idiot!" He yells; frustrated and clearly out of his finite patience, as if he too could see that this conversation was going both nowhere and everywhere.

"Wrong answer!" I scream back; well, there goes my 'calm.'

 _Do not cry, do not cry,_ the little voice tells me but its urging only makes the tear come precariously close to the surface and it takes every ounce of my willpower to not let them fall. I was so sick of crying... so, so, so sick of it but I couldn't help it. I could only hope that if someone else where to wind up in my position, they'd go through the same torrent emotions as I did; after all, this was a never-ending rollercoaster ride and not everyone can handle that - clearly I couldn't.

Still, I blinked back my tears and tried to keep myself together.

 _No more tears,_ I tell myself, repeating it like a mantra.

"Isn't that what you wanted, Tess?" he asks, throwing his arms in the air in frustration, "for it all the end?"

And... I snap.

"No, Edward. That's not what I meant, not at all," I say and by this point, I can't do it anymore; I can't hold back the tears. They escape from the corners of my eyes, tracking their way down my cheeks and no matter how many times I brush them away... they just keep on coming and I hated it.

I hated that I was crying - again - I hated that _he_ had to see me like this, I hated that he was the cause of my frustrations and my sadness and my anger and love and just... I hated that he was always at the centre. What could I do? I loved the bloody man in front of me; he was my friend, my confident, the biggest pain in the ass and the reason that I felt like I could actually make it 300 years in the past and can I please point out how amazing that was? I missed hot showers, I missed chocolate... hell, I missed wearing a bra! I missed my friends, my family; the people I love, even the people I hate... but Edward made it all just a little more bearable. I loved him... but he was breaking my heart.

I couldn't do it, I just couldn't continue this anymore but I... I...

I didn't know what I wanted.

All I knew was that I wanted Edward to... no... I just wanted Edward.

"Was that... really not what you wanted?" Edward asks, his tone of voice shifting as doubt begins to encroach.

"No."

"But you said-"

"I say a lot of things Edward, I think and feel a hell of a lot more, but I don't always mean it," I say, angrily brushing away my tears before pressing the heel of my palms against my eyes, willing myself to stop; of course, my brain seems to think that's not possible.

"I thought you meant-"

"I know what you thought. You were wrong."

"Now Tess," Edward says with a forced, weak smile, "we both know that I'm never wrong."

"This time you were."

"Are you sure?"

How had we gotten to this again? I couldn't recall. It always came to this, when we argued; we would argue and bicker and fight and complain and argue again, till we ended up right where we began with no idea how we got there in the first place and no idea exactly what had been solved, if anything had been solved at all. And then Edward would try to crack a joke or I would try to see reason and we'd move on with a laugh, a shake of our heads and the belief that we had managed to solve our problems. But there was always something there in the back of my mind, nagging me, forcing me to turn back and confront the issue because it hadn't been solved; just paused, put on hold until we could be brave enough, strong enough to face our fears, our worries, our insecurities and our anger head on.

We weren't going to continue that cycle.

Not anymore.

I had to face him, had to move past this wall, jump over the hurdle. There was no point in running and if I did, where would I go? I'd just end up running in that same circle, over and over again until I dropped from the exhaustion or gave up and I wasn't going to do either. This misunderstanding, this argument, this... whatever _this_ was, had gone on for to long. It should've been dealt with after Kingston; Edward and I should've sat down and discussed it like normal functioning adults; instead, afraid of what we felt, of what it would mean if we were to confront it, accept it and deal with the consequences and results of our actions, we ran from it for as long as we could.

I couldn't run anymore.

And I knew, with a little bit of nudging, Edward would stop running too.

Steeling my nerves, I raise my chin and meet his stormy gaze, brushing away the lingering tears that cling to my damp, flushed cheeks. In any other situation, I would be relieved to know that my tears had run their course but I was too nervous to congratulate my brain on making that practical decision. I had to be firm but not too firm, serious but not top serious... mostly I had to get Edward to understand my reasoning. If I could manage that, then there should be no problems?

Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth and try to force the words floating about my mind into complete, logical sentences:

"Can we stop with the bad jokes? You were wrong Edward - you're human, that's a possibility - but... so was I. So can you please talk to me like the adult I know you can be?"

"I thought I was acting rather adult."

"With all the yelling we were doing? Please, we've been acting like children."

"Is that so bad?"

"Edward."

"Alright," the pirate says, resigned, "alright, Tessa... we'll talk seriously."

Blinking, it takes a moment for me to realise Edward had agreed and when I do, I find myself at a loss for words. We were making process... and I had no idea how to continue doing so. Damn it.

"Tessa?"

"... You don't call me 'Tess' anymore," I find myself whispering, the thought escaping from my mind before I could stop it.

"What?" Edward asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing."

"Part of talking like adults, Tessa is that we don't hide things from one another," Edward points out with infuriating superiority - infuriating because he was completely correct. If we were to have an 'adult' conversation, we had to be honest with each other... it was one of the hardest things for us to, with all the secrets, all the lies, all the things that we wanted to say but couldn't say because we were afraid. Both of us had agreed to this dance... and it took two to see it through.

"Why don't you call me 'Tess' anymore?" I repeat as a question, folding my arms over my chest as my heart gave a sad, little thump.

"Does it really bother you that much?"

"No-" I start to say but catching his expression, I shut my mouth and nod.

Yes. Yes it did bother me.

It was just another reminder that some sort of rift had opened between us... and I still wasn't sure how we were going to bridge that gap. I wanted to - god, I wanted to close that chasm so bloody much - but did Edward? He was so ready to give up... why? Had he had enough? Had I?

So many questions.

No answers.

I needed answers.

I need _Edward_ to give me answers.

"I..." he trails off with a frown, running a hand through his blond hair with a frustrated huff. I could tell that he was trying to chose his words carefully, that he was considering his stance and my opinions and how he could make them both work - or how he could make them combust.

"I didn't - I _don't_ \- think I have the right," he admits with a helpless shrug of his shoulders.

I shake my head: "I don't understand."

"After what I did to you in Kingston, I don't have the right to be so familiar with you."

 _Oh._

Did he feel... guilty?

That was an obvious question with an obvious answer: yes, yes he did.

The more complicated one was why? Why did he feel guilty?

"Edward," I begin softly, taking a hesitant step towards him. When he didn't flinch or step away, I continued my advance until I was directly before him. His eyes refused to look at me, focusing instead on a spot over my head - which was easy for him, considering he was more than a head taller than me, even in the heeled-boots - but when I reach for his face, cupping his cheeks between the palms of my hands and guiding his face down towards mine, so that our eyes finally met, he allowed me to do so.

"Edward, you didn't do anything I didn't want you to do," I tell him seriously, not an ounce of humour on my face. I needed him to understand, I needed him to know that that was the honest truth, that that was how I felt. "If I could go back and change anything about that night... I wouldn't because to me it is a very important, treasured memory."

"You weren't-"

"I was perfectly in control of my actions. Maybe a little overwhelmed a first but completely agreeable to what followed," I argue back fiercely, fighting through my encroaching embarrassment as the memories of what occurred in that small, cramped room, "so don't... don't say you regret it and don't say you have no right to be so familiar with me. Because if you feel guilty about it, then I have to too and I don't want to. I don't want to think that what happened then was almost a mistake."

"Ok..."

"If anything, you should apologise for not speaking to me _after_ it happened... for months."

"Yeah," Edward sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck, his cheeks slightly red as he looks away, "you make a good point there."

"I know I do."

"Don't let it go to your head," he tells me, reaching over and flicking my forehead.

"I'm not you," I say, pushing away his hands with a frown.

"Now that's just mean."

"I don't have a mean bone in my body."

"Well," Edward flashes me that twisted, impish grin I knew and loved and had missed, melting my heart, "your behaviour today says differently."

"Says you!"

"Yes, says me, says you."

"Now, you're not making any sense," I say exasperated but I hesitate when I catch the furrowed bow marring Edwards' expression, "Edward? What is it?"

"It's nothing... but when you said you wanted it all to end," he pauses, as if he was afraid of the answer I may give if he were to finish the question I knew was coming. "When you said you wanted it all to end," he tries again, steeling his nerves, "did you mean you wanted our relationship to come to end? Did you mean that you wanted to leave? That you were down with all," he gestures about his cabin, to the door, to the world beyond the confines of the Jackdaw that we were only aware of because of the gentle swaying of the ship as it navigated the current, "with all of this?"

"No," I answer softly, honestly, "no... that's not what I meant."

"Then-?"

"I meant I wanted us to stop fighting," I explain, "maybe I should've used different words - actually, I definitely should've worded my intentions better but I didn't want... whatever _this_ _is_ to come to an end, Edward. I just wanted us to be able to have a serious conversation, without it dissolving into an argument which would only make the problem worse and worse until it destroyed us. I don't-"

"I"m sorry," Edward interrupts, bowing his head.

Now, that was a sight to see. Edward bowing to me.

"I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions."

"Can I ask why?" I say.

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you jump to that conclusion?... Do you really want me to go?"

Now I was afraid... afraid to hear what he might say. But I had to hear it.

"No."

"No?"

"No," Edward repeats firmly, "No I don't want you to go."

"Then-"

"When you said you wanted it all to end... it was like you were confirming my worst fears. It was as if you were telling me that you were done, that you couldn't do whatever this is anymore - hell... can we do this? What even are we Tess?"

"I don't know," I tell him honestly.

"Friends? Acquaintances? Lovers?"

"I don't know," I repeat.

"I know what I want us to be," Edward admits, taking a step back as if by standing so close to him I could hear his innermost, private thoughts - clearly he was not ready to share with me what he wanted... not yet.

"Ok."

"But what do you want us to be?"

"I-" that was a good question - what did I want us to be?

"I want us to be honest," I eventually settle upon.

"You're answering the question without actually answering it, you know?"

"...Yes," I reply reluctantly.

"What do you want us to be, Tessa?"

"I want us to be honest," I repeat but with a deep breath, I continue where my thought fell short no matter how much the answer embarrasses me: "and I want us to be... more than just friends."

"Oh."

"Yeah..." God, why did my skin have to go so red when I was embarrassed? Although I loved how fair my skin was, sometimes - like now - it was a huge pain in my ass.

Cue the awkward silence; but something was still bothering me.

"How could you just jump to that conclusion?" I ask.

"Pardon?"

"How could you just automatically reach the conclusion that I was done?"

 _Ignore the fact that that was one of the first things that popped into your head earlier,_ I told myself, _that you couldn't take it_ _anymore and you just wanted to turn tail and run... yeah, don't mention that.'_

"I'm sorry."

"After everything we've been through? How could you think I just wanted to throw it all away?"

"I know-"

"You really are an idiot, Edward," I complain.

"I know," he answers and then suddenly I'm pulled to his chest, Edwards' strong arms wrapping around my petite frame and effectively caging me against his warm, hard body. Surprised, I practically fall into his figure, my hands slamming against his chest as I try to steady myself and also escape but as much as I struggle and complain under my breath, I was quite content in his embrace... it was just as I remembered it - warm, comforting, familiar... home.

Burying his face in my hair, I feel Edward tighten his grip around me - he was squeezing me so tightly that I was almost tempted to joke that he was trying to strangle me, cut off my circulation so we could halt this rather awkward, truthful conversation. But instead, Edward surprises me; again. His voice muffled from where his face was pressed into my hair, I just barely catch his next words: "I know. I'm an idiot. You're completely right."

"Say that again?" I gasp out, pulling away and holding Edward at arms length, my eyes wide with disbelief.

Maybe I had misheard him?

"You were right," Edward repeats.

Nope. I had heard him correctly.

"Pigs will fly tomorrow," I tell him seriously, "and dogs and cats will fall from the sky instead of rain."

"Tess," he says, throwing back his head with a laugh.

He pulls my body back to his and I nestle my face into his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart and breathing in his comforting, familiar scent; a scent that was purely Edward... that smelt of rum and of warmth and gunpowder and the sea... always the sea. "I'm serious," I tell him, glancing up and catching his gaze, my lips curling into an easy, natural smile.

It was nice to be on the same page. So free, so liberating... so natural.

"You're ridiculous," he tells me, cupping my face with one hand and running his coarse thumb affectionately across my cheek.

"Maybe," I agree.

"Maybe," he murmurs.

 _So what now?_ I think.

"So... what now?" Edward asks aloud.

I can't help but laugh at how in sync our thoughts currently were. Even after all this time... some part of Edward and I just clicked.

"What?" he asks, confused at my sudden outburst and no doubt curious as to why I was suddenly a giggling mess in his arms.

"I was just... you know what, never mind."

"What happened to being honest?"

"It was nothing," I assure him, wrapping my arms around his waist and sighing as my entire body just seemed to relax in his embrace, "just a simplistic, little thought that has no value whatsoever."

"O...kay?"

Another laugh.

"Stop laughing," Edward complains, pulling away from me. He grabs my cheek between his thumb and forefinger, giving the skin there a sharp tug as he frowns, ignoring my loud cries of pain and complainant, "it's weird."

"It's not weird," I say, although the words come out rather garbled considering the way Edward was pulling my cheek in different directions, occasionally poking the pink flesh instead of pinching it. I catch his hand on the next attempt, squeezing his fingers as I do so I can catch his attention; which I manage to do. "What now?" I repeat.

"You said you wanted this," Edward gestures between the two of us, "to work."

Slowly, I nod.

"In what way?"

I pause, considering the question. He had asked me this earlier and I had skirted around the truth but maybe it was time for me to be honest. If we were to ever move forward, if we were to ever overcome our differences and this huge hurdle that stood between us and - as cliche as it sounds - our happiness, then I had to be honest. I had to tell him how I felt, no matter the consequences. It may seem silly, trivial even to admit, but this was our crossroads and the decisions we made now would effect which road we'd take and whether we'd be on the same path by the end.

I wonder... was I brave enough to face the path alone?

Was I brave enough to face it with him?

Was he?

"You once told me..." I say, recalling memories that I could not forget, no matter how hard I tried but maybe this was the chance to overwrite it with a new one - if it all worked out the way I wanted it to. "You once told me," I continue, "that if we were to ever be more... I'd have to tell you."

"I don't think I said it as nicely as you just did," Edward admits to me with a coy, somewhat apologetic smile.

Tilting back my head, I laugh and rap my knuckles against his chest with a wry smile, "not as nice, no."

"But I do remember."

And so we had come to that moment.

That pivotal point.

What would I do? What would I say?

And then... it just comes out:

"I love you," I whisper.

I don't quite realise what I have said until Edward - in his surprise - pushes me away and holds me at arms length, all traces of his earlier smile gone and complete disbelief on his handsome face. His voice almost seems to shake as speaks to me, his stormy eyes wide as he takes me in:

"You love me?"

He says it like he can't quite believe it, like he's hearing things but we both know what I said and after everything… did he really find it so hard to believe?

I love him... I _love him_. I love Edward - as much as I had loved Desmond... if not more. I didn't want them back, those precious words and I certainly didn't want to regret them. I love him, I love him and I wanted him to know. Too late to take it back away. Those three little can't be taken back. Not now.

But I don't want to.

"Three words, eight letters," I say softly, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear as I do, desperate to give myself something to do because the nerves were killing me slowly but more than that, the shock on Edwards' face was making my heart race a mile a minute. Looking up at him, I reach out and trace my fingers along his cheek, trying to calm my racing heart and me befuddled mind.

"I love you."


	29. Chapter 26

**A/N: A much shorter chapter than usual, sorry for that guys. However, it was a chapter that didn't need to be super long. A continuation of the previous chapter, it consolidates what happened previously and I think gives everyone exactly what they were waiting for... it was certainly the second half of the scene I had been anxiously waiting to write and I feel now is the time to release it. So sorry that it is short... but hopefully the content itself will make up for it.**

 **Caution. This chapter has some mature content - really... it's a major focus in this chapter, so please be warned.**

 **Reviews are much appreciated :)**

 **And I hope you look forward to the next instalment of Down The Rabbit Hole**

 **-AshTree13 xoxo**

 ***edited 19/5/17**

* * *

 _I can't sleep_

 _Cause thoughts [of you] devour_

 _Thoughts of you consume…_

 _And [as my] want grows stronger…_

 _I can't help but love you_

 _Even though I try not to [and]_

 _I can't help but want you [because]_

 _I know that I'd die without you_

 **\- Ruelle, 'War of Hearts' -**

* * *

 _"Three words, eight letters... I love you."_

* * *

 **Chapter 26:**

He had suspected, after what they had nearly done in Kingston... but to be told to his face that she loved him, Edward still couldn't quite get his head around it all. How could she possibly love him? _Him_?! Of all people - not that she had such great choice considering that every man she was surrounded by was either drunk, smelled of cabbage, murdered people for a living, thieved and lied and manipulated like it was an art form or, better yet, was a combination of all four - she could have picked, she had picked him. Maybe it wasn't love... it could just be infatuation.

But no.

He knew it wasn't.

And he had to wonder whether love was too weak a word for what she - for what _he_ \- felt.

"You love me?"

She nodded.

Turning away from her, Edward reaches for the tray laden down with food - some of which may have gone stale - and water, carrying it over to where Tessa stood. He nods towards a crate upon which Tessa, after a wary examination of both him and the box, sits upon it, her eyes widening when he removes the plate and sits it upon her lap.

"Then eat," he orders, handing her a goblet of water as well.

"What?"

"Eat," he repeats and after a pause, Tessa does exactly that, picking up the loaf of bread and tearing into it hungrily.

He watches her as she consumes every mouthful, finish every crumb and although she held out a slice of bread towards him - informing him that she was quite nervous eating before him while he did nothing but stare - he turned it down, too lost in his thoughts of her and what had just unfolded between them to eat. Edward was certain that even if he did eat, he couldn't trust himself to be able to keep it down - his stomach was in knots and even sipping at the water Tessa had thrust into his hand did nothing to cure it; the water was tasteless, dry in his mouth and it was all he could do to drain the goblet under her own watchful gaze. It was such a mundane task, sharing a meal but it had to be done; Tessa was clearly ravenous after sleeping a majority of the late afternoon away and Edward needed the time to think.

And think he does.

But none of what goes through his mind makes any logical sense.

When she was done, she handed him her plate and her empty goblet, her eyes watching him anxiously as he returned the dishes to the tray. When he turned his head to catch her gaze, her cheeks went red and she quickly glanced away, her mesmerising eyes studying the panelling of the cabin with apparent interest. However, the moment he returned his attention to the task at hand - a meaningless task, but one that would keep his hands busy whilst his mind tried to sought through the jumbled mess of his thoughts - he could feel her gaze on his back.

He fought the urge to catch her gaze again.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Tessa asks, breaking the silence that had stretched out between them while she had ate and since she had finished the somewhat pathetic and no doubt, plain meal.

In truth, he could barely gather his thoughts... how the hell was he supposed to reply to such a momentous declaration?

"I'm not sure what I should say," he finally answers.

"...Say anything."

Edward pours out another glass of water - anything to buy him some time. Swirling the clear liquid about, he considers the statement before drowning every last drop from the goblet and rising to his feet, he pulls Tessa to hers. Brushing a hand over her red-gold hair, he catches the end of her ponytail and pulls it loose, running his fingers through the curls like he had done so often in the past and yet... it had been days? weeks? months? since he had last done so? He couldn't recall. Any yet, even after all this time... all the time he had spent avoiding her touch, her gaze, avoiding his mounting desire and want for the petite girl in his arms, the feel of her soft curls between his roughened fingers was as calming as always.

"You love me?"

He had to ask her again; had to hear her answer the question again...

"Pardon?"

"You love me... that's what you meant, right?"

Tess looked up at him in confusion at the question, a delicate eyebrow raised in query but upon seeing the serious look marring his expression, she threw back her head and laughed, twisting away from his grasp as the laughter overcome her.

"What's so funny?" Edward asks with a confused smile, following after her, his arms encircling her corseted waist and pulling her body back to his. He presses a kiss to the side of her head, inhaling Tessa's delicious scent which seemed to remind him of... well... of home and leans over her shoulder, trying to catch a glance of her expression but she persists in avoiding his gaze; the glimpse of a smile is all he manages to catch.

"You. You're funny," she says at lasts, turning back to him with a hand over her mouth and the smile still blooming across her face, causing her cheeks to dimple.

Adorable. She was so fucking adorable. And beautiful... so beautiful that it took his breath away.

And she didn't even know - couldn't comprehend - just how much of an effect she had on him.

"I'm funny?"

"Yes."

"How so?" he demands, pulling her body by the waist so they were face to face.

"You've already asked me that particular question more than once," she says pointedly, raising an eyebrow, although her cheeks flushed a deep red and she couldn't quite meet his gaze in her embarrassment. "And I have given you my answer - more than once."

And so she had, but...

"I just... want to hear you say it again."

"But why?" she enquires, bewildered by his response.

"Because-" he pauses.

Why?

Why did he need to hear it again and again and again.

"Because," he continues, running a hand through his hair as his own embarrassment overcomes him, "it doesn't seem real."

"Nothing about this seems real to me," she admits with a helpless shrug of her shoulders and a small, sad smile, "who knows... maybe its all a dream and I'll wake up after closing my eyes and find myself home, with my brother and my friends and-"

"Desmond?"

It was as if, for a moment, all of the air had been knocked out of her small body. She physically jerked away at the sound of _his_ name, as if Edward had backhanded her across her heart-shaped face and her face seemed to, in that moment, lose all of its colouring to the point where Edward was momentarily - and ridiculously - concerned as to whether or not Tessa was still breathing.

"Tessa?"

"How...?" her voice trembles as she speaks and her eyes seemed to taken on an almost glassy hue; she was fighting back tears, Edward could tell as much. However, he knew she would not cry; Tessa was stronger than that and he was pretty certain that she had had enough crying for one even, after what had transpired only moments before.

"Tess? Are you-"

"How do you know abut Desmond?" she interjects, her face still dangerously pale and her voice raised in a somewhat frantic high, "I haven't... I haven't told anyone here about him. So how do you know that name, Edward?"

"I heard you call out for him," Edward admits; although, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth - almost as if he were admitting defeat by confessing to that.

"When?"

"... back when you were sick."

"That long ago?" she says, aghast and at his nod, Tessa turns away, pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes before coming her fingers through her unbound hair. She bites at her lip and chews at the inside of her cheek, pressing a hand against her stomach whilst the other braces against the table in the centre of the room, the tips of her fingers dangerously close to the undried ink that had been spilt across the surface in the heat of their argument. Taking a deep breath, she turns back to face him:

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"What could I have said?"

She looks down at her feet.

"I don't know," she says in a small whisper, "I don't know."

Silence. Again.

God he was sick of silence.

More so... he was sick of they arguments which always seemed to have the same underlying issue. Bickering with Tessa was fun... but when it came down to how he felt - how _she_ felt - it had become more than just a simple argument between friends which could be shoved off to the side and forgiven, forgotten, in a couple of minutes.

The time for that had passed.

And then there were the secrets. So many secrets.

And clearly, Tessa agreed.

"There are so many secrets between us, isn't there?" Tessa asks softly, looking up at him with a look on her delicate face that nearly tore his heart to shreds. She looked so sad, so lost and so... lonely, even though he stood only a few steps away from her, just within reach. Her lower lip seems to tremble at the thought, as if admitting the truth aloud, as if confessing to the number of secrets and lies that lay between them like an uncrossable chasm was some sort of unforgivable crime.

He wanted then, to sweep her into his arms and kiss away her fears. He wanted to assure her, in that moment, that even if there were so many things left untold between them he would continue to love, to want her. And he did. Love her and want her. The secrets didn't change that. Yet Edward knew that those secrets, those lies, were what was steadily stripping away their relationship and even if it did survive today, whose to say that the lies wouldn't catch up to them?

They always did, in the end.

It came down to a simple question: could he share his secrets, face his lies?

So... even though every fibre in his body wanted to comfort and love her unconditionally, Edward remained rooted in place and watched as Tessa wrapped her arms around her body in an attempt to bring herself some comfort.

And so now they must both suffer.

"I suppose there is," Edward admits.

"...Can't we fix that?"

"I can't."

"Can't fix things?" She asks, her face falling.

"No..." Edward tells her with a quick shake of his head, running a hand through his blond curls as he does, "I just... I just can't share my secrets Tess."

"Why not?"

"..."

"Are you afraid?" she whispers.

 _Yes_.

"No."

"Edward."

 _Just tell her, you idiot._

"... I'll hurt you," he whispers, unable to meet her beautiful eyes.

 _God Tess... I can't do that; not to you... not anymore._

"Try me," she says.

"I _can't_ Tess!"

Silence.

Damn him. Why couldn't he just... just be _honest_?

Then again, who had ever heard of an honest pirate?

"His name was Desmond Miles," Tess says suddenly, startling Edward out of his thoughts and back into reality. "His name was Desmond Miles and... I loved him."

"Tess, you don't-"

"Yes I do," she interrupts with a small smile, reaching over and placing a hand on Edward's forearm. For a moment she looks away, a small crease forming between her brow as she recalls memories from his past and struggles to speak of them aloud, almost as if discussing the memories of the boy she had once clearly loved was physically painful - and it probably was; Edward understood that perfectly, probably better than any one of their shared friends and comrades. Even if you found yourself in love with another, a piece of you always remained with the person you had left behind; Edward loved Tessa but she still adored Caroline and it was that - along with scores of other secrets - which prevented him from saying those three little words aloud, from admitting how much he loved the woman before him.

Edward had a sneaking suspicion that Tessa had had the same problem; until now, of course.

"But why?" He asks, unable to hide his bewilderment.

She pauses for a few beats, studying the lines of his face before heaving a great sigh, a smile blossoming upon her lips. "Oh Edward... don't you know why?"

"No, that's why I'm asking you," he answers, frustrated by her coy attitude.

"I just..." she pauses, finding the right words to express her thoughts - a task Edward knew could be quite demanding. "It occurred to me that if _I_ shared some of my secrets with you, then maybe one day... _you'd_ do the same with me."

"..."

He was at a loss for words - a rare occurrence for him.

"Was that foolish of me?"

"No," he whispers, reaching out to cup her face between his calloused hands, desperately fighting the urge to kiss her. Losing the battle, he pulls the petite woman to his chest and bends his head towards her, so the distant wouldn't be so great between them. Pressing his lips to hers, Edward feels the tremble that moves through her body as their lips move against one another and hears the soft sigh that escapes from her rosy lips. And it occurs to him that this is the first real kiss they've shared in a long while... ignoring the one on _The Queen Anne's Revenge_ , which he wasn't sure if it even counted.

"Are you sure you want to tell me about... about him?" he asks as he breaks the kiss, tucking strands of her fiery hair behind her skin, his fingers lingers on her flushed cheeks made all the more vibrant by the paleness of her smooth skin.

"I _want_ to tell you," she answers, her eyes alight with a determined fire. Then, suddenly nervous, she pulls away and plays with her hair, chewing at the inside of her cheeks as she notes: "and I have this deep fear this if I don't - if we just remain as we have been - then nothing will change and we'll keep running around in circles... till we can't take it anymore."

"Tess-"

"Please let me do this," she interrupts, "I _need_ to do this and honestly? It'll be good for me to talk about... about him with someone. It's been a long while since I've even mentioned his name aloud."

"I see."

"Love's difficult isn't it?" she asks with a sad smile and a helpless shrug of her shoulders.

"Yes," Edward agrees quietly, thinking of his wife back in England whom he still cared deeply for but then he was consumed - as his thoughts so often were - with thoughts about the beautiful, brave woman in front of him. "Yes... love is difficult."

"So... um, can I...?"

"Sure," he says, although his stomach twists uncomfortably and the words tasted bitter on his tongue, because although he's willing to listen to her for the sake of progress - because he doesn't want to lose her anymore than she wants to lose him - he was still insanely, and irrationally, jealous of this Desmond.

"Well... um... I met him after he was... re-inducted into the Assassin's Order," she says with a faraway look in her eyes but a fond smile twisting her lips. "It wasn't exactly his choice, mind you... but I think he found peace with the decision at the very end. He was very good at it, you see... being an Assassin, even if he didn't necessarily want to admit it..."

"We met because of my brother. Some time after Shaun had decided to join up with the Assassin Order - because really, by that point my brother had no choice - he and my friend Rebecca got involved with Desmond and his situation and when their little ragtag group realised they were in a little too deep... Shaun contacted me. I don't know how exactly we became friends but the next thing I knew... well... we were... and from that I... well I, um, fell in love with him."

Tessa blushes. In her embarrassment, she begins to plait, unplait and then re-do her hair over and over again as if by giving her fingers something to do, it would make telling the story a little easier.

"A-Anyway," she continues, her voice shaking a little, "things happened - a lot of things happened - and well..."

"You told him you loved him?"

She laughs. "I wish it had been that simple."

"No?"

"Is this simple?"

Now it was _his_ turn to laugh: "no at all."

"Exactly."

"What happened?"

Her face seemed to soften but there was a hint of melancholy in her eyes that twisted his heart: "and well... he died."

What could he say to that?

"He died and..." she trails off, the words getting caught in the back of her throat.

"... I'm sorry," Edward says although what good were those empty words?

"Why are you apologising?" She laughs but its not quite right. It's a little forced, clearly portraying her discomfort with the topic and yet... somehow... she continues: "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I just-"

"I got to tell him how I feel," she tells him with a soft smile, "and that... that's enough for now."

Edward nods. He could understand that. But what was he supposed to say next? Eventually, he had to confirm one thing: "You loved him."

It was a statement, a fact and although Edward hadn't framed it as a question, Tessa nods in affirmation all the same.

"Yes."

"You still love him."

"Yes."

"I see."

"To be honest," she admits softly, a look of guilt crossing across her face, "I think I always will."

"But you also love me?"

He just wants to hear her say it - partially because... because he just needs to hear it and partially because he needs something to smother the jealous fire within him.

"Confusing isn't it?" she asks with a self-depreciating tone, "oh how fickle I can be... my brother would've told you that it is one of my many flaws."

"No one's perfect."

"Except for you," she points out with a smile, recalling his earlier remark.

"Yes," Edward answers with a soft chuckle, "except for me."

A pause. A moment to absorb everything that had been said. A moment to stop and think and consider how best to move forth.

"I don't mind," Tessa says, breaking the silence once again - it seemed she was better at that than he was; Edward was never quite certain what he should say next, although he loathed the awkward pauses even if he did appreciate the time to collect his thoughts.

"Don't mind what."

"The secrets," she explains. Then she stops, shaking her head with a frown darkening her angelic features, "no... no... that's not quite true. I do mind the secrets."

"Ok-" he begins.

"But I don't mind waiting for you to be ready to tell me them," she interrupts, twisting towards him.

She crosses the gap between them, laying her hands flat against his chest right atop where his heart beat steadily in his chest, licking her lips as she finds the right words to say. Aware of every breath, every movement, Edward's hands came to gently rest upon her hips as she studies his face, one hand lifting from the fabric of his chest to caress his cheek.

"Tessa?"

"I'll happily tell you my secrets," she admits, "because I trust you enough... I _love_ you enough... to tell you them but even I have somethings that I just-"

"That you just can't share," he finishes for her.

"Exactly."

"Most of mine sit in that category."

"But that's fine," she says with a laugh, "it's fine because... one day I know that we'll be able to tell each other those secrets that we can't bear to share now. I trust that you will tell me one day... but that day doesn't have to be today."

"So," Edward says slowly, "just to recap... you don't want any part of this to end."

"No."

"And... you don't mind the secrets... well, you don't mind them too much."

She shrugs, "it's something I can live with until you're ready... as long as you can do the same."

"And you love me?"

At that she giggles, turning her face away once again but when Edward catches her cheek in the palm of his hand, she obediently turns her face back to his. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she rose to the tips of her toes, although it did very little to close the height difference between them - after all, Tessa's head only just reached his shoulder - and looks him right in the eye, before turning her head and pressing her warm, soft lips to his cheek.

"I want you to know," she whispers against his cheek, her warm breath tingling against his skin, "that I love you, Edward Kenway."

She felt his entire body twitch at the words and then felt the tension stiffen every muscle within his body, as if he was about to turn and run after hearing the confession aloud once again but she held fast and Edward tried to remain still, to let her finish; as much for her sake as well as his own.

"I want you to know that... I'm certainly not perfect... and nothing in my life is even close to perfect. I still love Desmond... I can't not love him and I don't know what might happen in the future, I don't know what might happen tomorrow, in the next week, month or year but..." she pulls her face away from his, brushing away the lone tear that had somehow escaped down his cheek to his partial horror and shock. "But I want you to know that every piece of my heart belongs to you and I'd endure disaster, every fight... every uncertainty over and over again if it meant that I could still fall in love with you."

"You are..." Edward shook his head, fighting back his unexpected tears, "you _are_ perfect and I don't deserve you."

"That's hardly true."

"It is."

She laughs, brushing away what suspiciously looked like a tear.

And in that moment, he knew.

He just... knew:

"I love you."

"Oh," she gasps, the tears now sliding down her rosy cheeks but these were tears she was happy to let fall. She went still as Edward leaned in, kissing away one tear. Then the other. Then the next. As he had once down so in the past but now meant so much more... when his lips were wet and salty with her tears, he leaned back far enough to see her eyes. Those beautiful eyes that reminded him so fondly of the ocean, and yet somehow also made him feel as if he were safe and warm and loved and at home.

"You're mine," he breathes and then his lips found hers.

It was gentle - soft. The kind of kiss that reminded her of their first kiss on the beach in Tulum, the kiss Edward had given her in thanks but it was so much more than that. It was the kind of kiss Edward may have given her had they been given time and peace to get to know one another, without the death and the tears and the fighting and the blood... the kind of soft kiss he would have given her after taking her to London to see a play, the kind of kiss he would have given her if he had been allowed the curtsey to court her as any gentleman would. Tessa slid her arms around his shoulders, opening her mouth to him and his tongue slipped in, caressing her own. In that moment, Edward hardened against her, and Tessa groaned into his mouth.

The sound snapped whatever leash of self control Edward had put on himself, and Edward scooped her up in one smooth movement before laying her flat across the table - amongst and on top of all all the loose sheets of parchment and quills and maps and the ink... the freshly spilt, black ink.

"Edward," she whispers, pushing against his chest, her own heaving from the lack of breath she was struggling to regain.

He ran his lips down her neck, sucking at the skin there and trailing his hands down her curves.

"Edward."

With a frustrated growl, he pulls himself away and tries to steady the frantic racing of his heart as he braces himself against the table.

"The ink?"

"Yes..." the laugh that is drawn from her lips is breathless, "the ink."

"Damn the bloody ink," he growls but he complies with the silent request, scooping her once more into his arms and crossing over towards his bed, upon which he unceremoniously dropped her upon the mattress.

"Edward!" Tessa cries out, giggling helplessly as she pulls herself upright, "how rude... not very gentlemanly at all."

"Good thing I'm a pirate and not a gentleman," Edward says drily with a smirk, pushing her down against the bed so that her back lay flat against the mattress. He leans forward and presses a kiss to her swollen lips, effectively silencing any further conversation and sound except for the deep, breathy moan that forced itself from between Tessa's otherwise occupied lips.

Deepening the kiss, Tessa wrapped her legs around his back, hooking him closer. Edward tore his lips from her mouth to her neck, where he proceeded to drag his teeth and tongue down her delicious, fair skin as his hands slid underneath the leather vest and the soft cotton blouse; well as far as he could manage with the tight laces of the vest restricting any further movement beyond the sliver of skin spanning across her hips. He removes his lips from her neck and makes quick work of the laces of the leather corset, impatiently tossing it aside. Free from its confines, Edwards hands slip underneath the white blouse and went up, up, to cup her breasts which were thankfully free from any sort of binding or fabric like he knew they usually were. Tessa aches into the touch, and she gracefully lifts her arms as Edward peels away the blouse in one easy motion.

Edward pulls back to survey her, her body naked from the waist up, her hair wild and unbound and floating about her face as she were floating beneath the surface of the sea. Slowly, his eyes locked on hers, Edward lowers his mouth to her breast and sucked, his tongue flickering against her nipple.

It was as if he had set her on fire.

She plunges her fingers into his hair, and he braces a hand beside her head, grounding his hips against her, teasing - teasing her so horribly that she had to touch him, had to feel more of him. She grabs at his clothes and Edward shifts enough to allow her to remove them, leather and weapons thudding to the ground, buttons popping one by one, revealing beneath all the material his beautiful tattooed body, powerful muscles and fine scars that crisscrossed over every surface. One in particular catches her eye and she reaches out slowly, brushing the tips of her fingers against the silver edges of a scar that should've been on her own skin and not Edwards.

"Tess..." he moans, trembling at her feather-light touch.

"You've always..." she swallows thickly, blinking away those pesky tears she was determined to keep at bay. "You always protect me."

"Of course I do," he whispers back huskily, leaning over her. He reaches out and cups her cheeks, rubbing a calloused thumb over her rosy cheekbones before pushed back her hair behind her ear. Drawing his face towards hers, he presses a kiss to each eyelid and then to her lips, coxing her mouth to open under his. Pulling away, smirking in satisfaction as he gazes down upon the beautiful, flustered woman in his arms, he tells her that he always will be there to protect her.

"No," she says to his surprise.

"No?"

Tessa reaches up, ghosting her fingers down his bare chest. With a serious, level look at him - a strange expression that contrasted with the pink cheeks and her heaving chest - she says: "we'll protect one another."

At her words, affection surged throughout Edwards' body and again he was left wondering, wondering why this amazing, wonderful and brave woman wanted him. _H_ _im_ of all people. And yet, the knowledge that she wanted him, only made Edward love her more.

His mouth crashed into hers once more, a furious clash of tongue and teeth and desire, Edward's bare skin so warm against her now and she gripped his face, keeping him there as she she gently ran her fingers through his hair. Edwards' hands found Tessa's waist once again, and she bucked her hips off the mattress to help him remove the boots, and her leather pants, not to mention everything else that lay beneath the worn fabric. Bare before him, she lets out a bark of protest as Edward pulls away only... it chokes off into a loud gasp as he grips her thighs and yanks her to the very edge of the mattress, her legs briefly dangling over the edge before her hooks them over his shoulders, and knelt before her.

Then stopped.

"Edward," she gasps out, pleadingly, frustrated with the sudden halt in their passion.

"What do you want me to do, Tess?" he purrs in response, running a hand up the inside of her thigh which causes her to throw her head back and moan, his fingers curling into the sheets so tightly that her knuckles went white from the strain.

"Please."

"Tell me."

"Touch me," she begs.

The first lick of Edward's tongue set her on fire.

The second... there were no words to describe it.

Edward growled his approval at her moan, at her taste, and then unleashed himself upon her entirely.

A hand pinned her hips to the bed while his tongue worked her in great, sweeping strokes that left her mind blank and her grasping for purchase. And when his tongue slid inside of her, she reaches up to grip the edge of the mattress - grip at the sheets - as if she were gripping the edge of a world she was very close to falling off, plunging into the great cataclysm below. He licked and kissed his way to the apex of her thigh, his fingers replacing where his mouth had been just moments before, pumping inside of her as he sucked at her breast, teeth scraping ever so slightly against the sensitive flesh there and as he does, Tessa bows off the mattress as her climax shatters throughout her body, shattering what little consciousness she had left into millions of pieces. And yet even though she had came, Edward kept licking her, his fingers still moving inside of her.

"Ed...ward," she gasps.

Now. She wanted him now. And she knew he did too...

But Edward remained kneeling, that damned hand keeping her pinned to the mattress as he lips and teeth brushed over every exposed inch of her body.

She went over the edge again - and again. It was only when she was trembling, limp with pleasure as the aftershocks of her previous climax shook her body, did Edward rise from the floor. He looked her over, naked, covered in a fine layer of sweat and gave her a slow, satisfied smirk. She watched as he unbuttoned his pants, slowly - so, so slowly - until the considerable length of him sprang free. Her mouth went dry at the sight of it and she had to look away as he cheeks burned with embarrassment, the force of her desire overwhelming her but as Edward came over her, he turned her face back towards his and gently - so very gently - pressed a kiss to each eye, to her nose, to each cheek, to her forehead and then finally her lips.

"I love you," Edward whispers.

"I love you too," Tess replies.

"I know," and then Edward slid in. And in. And in.

She could hardly breathe, hardly think beyond where their bodies were joined. Edward stilled inside of her, letting Tessa adjust to the feel of him before he pulled out slightly and then thrust back in, nice and low. So fucking slow.

"I love you," Tessa gasps out.

Again, he pulls out, then thrust in.

"I know," Edward repeats.

Again - faster, deeper, harder this time.

"I love you."

Out. Then in.

"I know."

And then he didn't stop.

Her hips moved in time with his and Edward kissed her over and over and over. Every inch of Tessa burned and tightened, and her control slipped entirely as he whispered breathily into her ear, "I love you."

Release tore through her body and he pounded into her, hard and fast, drawing out the pleasure until she felt as if they were one, until she felt as if she was his and he was hers completely: their beginning, middle and end. Edward roared as he came, slamming in to the hilt and then silence fell, interrupted only by their panting breaths. He stayed inside of her, his arms shaking from the effort of remaining upright and Tessa reached up, taking his face between her hands, her beautiful eyes looking into his with unfathomable love and joy and exhaustion. She leans up - arching her back - and presses a kiss to his lips, to his cheeks, to his eyes...

And then she smiled.


End file.
